


Just Wanted to Teach Him

by asexualcastiel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe Bobby Singer, Angry Dean Winchester, Destiel - Freeform, Destiel will happen but it will be background, Gabriel is a Little Shit, Gen, Jack has like 5 dads, Mary is trying to be a good mom, OFC is Nephilim like Jack, OFC protagonist, Sam is a sweet nerd but protective of his brother, other oc's are background, please be nice to me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-02
Updated: 2019-03-06
Packaged: 2019-07-05 22:34:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 32
Words: 43,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15873066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asexualcastiel/pseuds/asexualcastiel
Summary: Trisha, a Nephilim, is on a mission. Tacky, she knows, but it's true. She's supposed to help Jack, her cousin, but the Winchesters are suspicious and Trisha's plan goes awry.Not canon compliant after S.13, mid E.22





	1. Chapter 1

Jack was still young, even for a human, especially for an angel. He had seen so much and had participated in just about as much stuff as he had seen. However, his participation in things wasn’t always good. Jack was still getting a handle on his powers- struggling to, actually.

That’s why good old gramps sent me. I was the only other Nephilim alive, and the only one to be made in centuries even in the same ball park of power as Jack was. So, it was up to me to help him learn to use his powers- not in the name of good, or evil, but just to make sure he didn’t unintentionally wipe the earth off the face of the universe. Once he learned how to do it intentionally I was free and clear. Or so dad and gramps said.

So, I stood outside of the old Men of Letters bunker, eyeing it warily. It had angel warding scribbled all over it, with only a few special exceptions written within the wards. I, as an unknown part-angel, was not included in those exceptions. Since the other half of me was (mainly) human, I could probably eke past the warding if I tried, but that doesn’t mean it wouldn’t hurt like a bitch. And having been around for centuries, I had experienced a fair amount of pain in my time. As a general rule, I tried to avoid it.

Instead of burning off a bit of my grace to sneak into the bunker, I instead waited. The Winchesters & co. had recently saved the world, for the nth time, and saved some people from an alternate world. The saving the alternate-earth people was the first I knew of them doing, but it wouldn’t’ve surprised me if I was wrong. And so, the refugees of the burnt, alternate world resided in the bunker as they adjusted to this new life. As did the Winchesters, and my uncle Castiel, and who knows how many other people.

Peeking in on the energies of the bunker, I was surprised at exactly how many people they managed to squirrel away in that old place. But my main concern, my mission, wasn’t in the bunker. Jack had left the bunker without me noticing? That was odd. He hadn’t left through the front doors, I would have seen him, as I was situated where I could see the only entrance and exit to this world from the bunker.

I grimaced. He was an inexperienced Nephilim, but given his parentage, that didn’t mean he was incapable of accessing his powers. The kid probably used his grace to pop out.

Think of the devil’s son and so he shall appear. Behind me, and wielding an angel blade. A minor concern, given how awkwardly he was holding the damn thing, but still a concern. Any blade is a danger to a human, and an angel blade is doubly concerning for one who hails from angels and humans both.  
Instead of engaging him in what promised to be a rather embarrassing fight on his part, I merely willed the blade away with a flick of my fingers, and turned to face my cousin.

“Hey there, cuz,” I said with a grin on my lips. “You’re gonna need to be sneakier if you really wanna get the jump on me.” Jack quirked his head. Apparently, I was not quite what he expected. However, he seemed to get over his confusion quickly, as another blade solidified in his hand and he charged me. Internally, I rolled my eyes. Of course, being raised by the Winchester bros he would be the type to shoot, or in this case, stab, first and ask questions later.

I wheeled out of his way- he really was a new fighter, he telegraphed his actions seconds in advance and was therefore, for now, easy to avoid. “Ok, Jacky boy, let’s calm down. I just wanna talk,” I said, turning to face him again.

Jack cocked his head again, and frowned. “That’s what they all say!” Jack grunted, and threw himself at me yet again, knife first. This was getting old. I grabbed his wrist as he charged me, and in one fluid motion I knocked the knife in one direction and Jack in the other. He hit the ground with a thump. He still had his frown on his face as he peered up at me.

“I do genuinely want to talk, Jack. But this whole ‘let’s stab the stranger’ act is getting annoying. Stranger danger isn’t all that it’s hyped up to be.” I took a step towards the knife, to dispose of it, and Jack’s eyes widened. “I pray to thee, Castiel, help me!” He yelled out desperately. Shit.

The flap of wings heralded my uncle’s appearance, behind me. Angels really do have all the same tricks. Castiel took one look at me, near an angel killing blade, with Jack lying prone on the ground, and then flew into action.

A newbie Nephilim is little concern to me. But Castiel? He was a hardened fighter, leader of his garrison for thousands of years, and had much more experience then I could ever hope to gain. Were I to go toe to toe with my uncle, I would surely be killed. Before I could even get my bratty cousin to talk to me, too.

Castiel had me pinned up against a nearby tree in a blink of an eye, his angel blade digging into my throat. My hands flew up in the air in a stabilizing attempt, and they stayed there as I froze, trapped, against the hard tree, and cold blade.

“Who sent you?” Castiel grated out, leaning into me. My eyes twisted shut. “Please, it’s complicated, I just want to talk and help,” I pleaded. Castiel apparently did not like my answer, as he growled and pressed his blade further into my throat, drawing blood and starting to nick my grace. “Who are you?” Castiel demanded.

At that moment, the cavalry came busting out of the bunker. Cas must have alerted the mass of hunters inside before he came to Jack’s ‘rescue.’ Sam and Dean were at the front of the pack, and Sam helped Jack up as Dean stalked over to where my uncle held me pinned, a gun cocked and pointed at my head.

A shorter, older man followed behind Dean, holding chains which no doubt had some sort of nasty spell work inscribed on them, no doubt intended for me. If they didn’t decide to kill me on the spot.

Dean Winchester, a man I was meant to help save, pseudo father to my mission came up to Cas. After giving him a thorough once over, presumable to make sure Castiel was ok, prodded him. “So?”

Castiel kept his eyes firmly on me as he replied, “She seems to be a Nephilim. Jack prayed to me for aid and when I appeared she was standing over him, going for an angel blade.” Dean came closer to me and pressed the gun he held to my temple. I tried to chuckle, although it admittedly came out more like a whimper, and said, only a little desperately, “I know you must hear this all the time, but I promise it’s not what it looks like. I swear, I just want to talk to Jack.”

Dean glanced at me, vitriol in his eyes, and bit out a “Shut up, bitch.” His eyes flicked over to where Sam was checking on Jack, making sure my cousin was unharmed. “Sam?” Dean asked, wanting verbal confirmation that Lucifer’s son was fine. Sam stood partially in front of Jack, to separate the kid from the perceived threat- me. “Yea,” Sam responded, and moved towards where the angel blade Jack had summoned still lay. Jack hung back a little, but shadowed Sam anyway. Jack peered at me, around Sam’s hulking form, and muttered a quiet, “She said she didn’t want to hurt me. I think she was just…” He trailed off, eyes to the ground.

Sam spared a quick glance towards the Nephilim boy, and then solemnly said, “Sometimes people lie, Jack. We need to make sure she isn’t.”

Cas held me still as Dean ran through the tests- holy water, salt, silver. I winced as the silver blade sliced across my forearm, and my eyes flashed a momentary gold.

Dean beckoned the older man with the chains forward. “Bobby, secure her.” He then focused his attention on me. “You try to run, you move, you blink, you even breathe, and I will put an angel ganking bullet in your brain so fast you won’t even know what happened.”

Castiel backed off, although I knew he would be faster even than trigger happy Dean. I was honestly tempted to run, but the threat of pain, and death, held me still. Dean kept his brilliant green eyes, and silver gun, trained on me, as the man, Bobby, came forward.

Past the three men keeping me virtually immobile, I saw Sam start to herd Jack and the other hunters back into the bunker. Throughout the crowd that had amassed, I saw the glint and shines of many angel blades. I internally winced at the reminder of how many of my aunts and uncles had died and winced externally as Dean took the handcuffs from Bobby and tightened them around my wrists harshly. Bobby did a pat down of me and scoffed as he took my only weapon- a small knife, made from half of my father’s angel blade. “Nice little pig sticker, girl.”

I choked back a distressed sound- it was my only means of defense, and Castiel would undeniably recognize it for what it was.

Castiel’s eyes narrowed, and took the knife from Bobby. “This is an interesting blade, Nephilim.”

Dean rolled his eyes and huffed. “Inside, guys, let’s do this inside.” I winced a little, and Dean picked up on it. “What,” he asked sardonically, “you claustrophobic or something?”

I laughed a humorless laugh, nervous. “A little, as a being half made of celestial intent, I’m not used to being underground. But I’m more concerned about the warding?”

Dean glanced at Castiel. Castiel’s cold blue eyes surveyed me. “Taking her into the bunker is possible, merely unpleasant for her.” With those words, Dean briskly nodded and pushed me towards the entrance of the bunker. “Hey, wait, I,” I started to protest, but Dean and Castiel both sent withering glares at me, and I promptly shut my mouth.

Dean’s earlier joke about me being claustrophobic was truer than he knew. And being shoved through layers of angel warding didn’t sound all that pleasant either. If it were within my ability at the moment, I would’ve ‘poofed’ away right there and then, damn the consequences. But the restraints they had slapped on me were angel-proof, keeping my grace inactive. I was as strong as my mortal body was. No grace, no magic, just handcuffed arms and chained legs and a body that wouldn’t heal quickly if I made an escape attempt. I was utterly and truly stuck.


	2. Chapter 2

I dragged my feet as much as possible, but my body weight was insignificant compared to Dean’s strength. He harshly pulled me along, and when he was fed up by me resisting as much as possible without being shot, stopped suddenly and growled, “Either you walk with me or I carry you.”

I blanched at the idea. I had no issue with humans touching me, like some angels do, but being manhandled is another thing entirely. I huffed out a sigh, and shuffled along. Bobby walked ahead of me, Dean alongside me, and Castiel trailed behind. Dean kept an iron grip on my arm. 

I glanced backwards as we neared the entrance of the bunker, trying to get my last glimpse of the evening sky. I had a feeling it would be a while til I saw it again, given the treatment Winchester & co. were providing at the moment. 

However, when I tried to see the sky for maybe the last time, Cas filled my vision. He reached out, placed two fingers on my forehead, and then my vision went dark. 

OOOOOOOOO

The young girl collapsed. Dean stopped, catching the girl, no, Nephilim, before she, no, it, hit the ground entirely. “What the hell, Cas?”

“My apologies, Dean. She seemed to be looking for something, and I think it’s best that our new prisoner doesn’t know the layout of the bunker, in case she tries something… drastic,” Cas replied, dourly looking down on the girl’s crumpled form. Her grace seemed familiar in a way he couldn’t quite place, and it made him uncomfortable. “We can get Sam to carry her the rest of the way.”

Dean also looked at the kid. She was down for the count right now, and getting Sammy to carry her to the dungeon would be the quickest way to get her there. And, Sam had the biggest height/ weight advantage on her, in case she was packing a little extra punch that the handcuffs hadn’t accounted for. 

Dean nodded. “Bobby, get Sam, please? Cas and I will watch the little angel here.”

Bobby nodded. He walked into the bunker quickly, as Dean hooded the girl and Castiel looked on. Sam emerged from the bunker, and saw the Nephilim girl on the ground, hooded and chained. He scooped her into his arms, and entered the bunker. 

OOOOOOOOOO

I awoke in a panic. I couldn’t see and could barely move. A hood had been placed over my head, and I was still chained up. I was in a lot of pain; from what I could tell Castiel had knocked me out, and while I was unconscious, I had been carried through the angel warding. 

Someone was holding me, and I really didn’t like that. I thrashed in their hold, until I heard a male voice say, “Quit that, otherwise I’ll drop you.”

I tensed, but stopped thrashing. The same voice, the man carrying me said, “See, you’re fine. Just don’t fight, ok?” I stayed silent and tense, uncomfortable. 

My adrenaline was pumping, but there was nothing I could do. However, despite whatever my captor said, I was nowhere near the definition of fine. I was carried for a while longer, unhappy that I was being manhandled like I was just an object. ‘At least I wasn’t being dragged by my feet,’ I thought. 

I heard two, no three, sets of footsteps, echoing off the walls. A heavy- sounding metal door was dragged open, and two people walked through the doorway. One person stayed behind, and shut the door firmly behind us. I heard multiple locks click into place. 

I was set down into a chair, relatively gently. I immediately stood up and tried to make a break for it, but I ended up quickly shuffling slam into someone in front of me. I doubt I would’ve gotten far, being chained up and hooded like I was. Steady hands held my shoulders, and the man that had carried me, who was holding me in place, said, “Nice try. Sit.” This time, I was not so gently shoved back in the chair. 

I went to go stand again, but I heard a gun cock. I froze. A different voice, Dean’s, this time, gravely said, “Remember my angel bullet offer? Still stands. Don’t. Move.”  
I slowly sat back in the chair. Someone, the other man, secured me to the chair. In addition to my arm and leg shackles, I was bound to the chair with more lengths of chain. I heard something drip, some Enochian muttered, and then my hood was taken off my head. 

As I blinked, adjusting to the bright light, a match was dropped, and I was encircled, ensnared, in a ring of holy fire. 

Sam and Dean stood outside the ring, watching me intently. “Shit,” I muttered, glaring back at them. “Don’t you think this is a little redundant?” I questioned them, gesturing as best I could to the chains and the holy fire. 

Dean scoffed. “Not at all. Who are you?” 

I sighed. “Straight to the standard questions, I see.” Dean glowered. He must be on his man-period. I hadn’t seen him this pissed off in all the time that I had been watching the bunker, which had been for almost all of the time Jack had been with the Winchesters and Cas.

Sam also looked incredibly pissed. “You were watching us, and then you attacked Jack. Why?” he demanded. 

“Jack actually attacked me. I was just trying to get a glimpse of my cousin, and keep an eye on you knuckleheads. Also, where’s the door?” I replied, acting a little too blithe for the situation I was in. I decided right then and there to only answer Sam, as he was the one who looked like he wanted to murder me less. However, I didn’t get much of a chance to do that, as the door’s locks quickly unlatched and Castiel barged in. 

He was what the angels of days past looked like- eyes blazing with grace, trench coat swirling out behind him, body lined with fury. He had a purpose. He was terrifying.

Cas stopped just short of the holy fire and brandished the knife Bobby had taken off me. “This,” he said urgently, furiously, “is made partially from an archangel blade. How did you get this? Why do you have this?” I eyed my uncle nervously. Instead of answering him, I evaded his questions, instead replying with fake cheer, “Well hello to you too, Uncle Cas! Great family reunion this is. Could do with less of a barbeque, though.”

He glowered at me. “I have no time for games, child,” he bit out the last word like it was a curse. 

I raised my right eyebrow. “I know this body looks young, but I promise I’m legal,” I snarked back. The chains were cutting into my skin, and while the chair I was chained to was cold, the heat off the holy fire rolled onto me in waves. I was uncomfortable, and scared, and had learned sarcasm as a coping and defense mechanism from my father.

My focus was primarily on Castiel, as the biggest threat in the room, but I saw Sam grab Dean, and mutter something in his ear. It was pathetic; powered down, I couldn’t even hear what was being said. 

“Care to share with the class, guys?” I called over to them. Sam smirked, and Dean’s face twisted into a scary imitation of a smile. I winced, knowing I wouldn’t like what was coming. Dean replied, “We think we might let you stew in your juices for a while- that is, if you don’t boil first.” And with that, he grabbed Cas away from the edge of fire, and on their way out they cut out the lights, leaving the room lit with just the holy fire ring as my source of light. 

The door shut firmly, with an air of finality, and all the fake bravado I had put up front sagged out of me. “Well, shit, dad, I’m really stuck now,” I whispered.

OOOOOOOO

Outside the dungeon, Castiel, Sam, Dean, and Bobby stood around a table, studying the blade they had confiscated from the Nephilim. It was a small thing, only a hand long, and an inch wide at the base. The handle was made from an old wood with metal of the blade merging into it, and the metal itself was a light gold color. Bobby frowned. “Cas, you’re sure this was made from an archangel blade? No offence, but it doesn’t look like any angel blade I’ve ever seen.”

Castiel nodded firmly. “I can feel it. The power of it… is more than any other angel blade. Whoever made this managed to take it from an archangel, and then re-forged part of it into this blade. I do not know where the rest of the sword is, but this knife is too small to be all of it. Whoever made this knife is incredibly powerful. …This Nephilim girl, I suspect it is hers, she seemed distressed when Bobby took it. This means she is incredibly powerful, or she has strong allies.”

Dean grimaced. “Do we know whose kid she is? She said Jack was her cousin, so Lucifer’s out, but there were literally hundreds of thousands of angels, right?”  
Castiel paused, thoughtfully. “Nephilim were… are… abominations. Many do not make it past birth, if allowed to make it that far. Whoever is this child’s angelic parent must have survived… everything, and still shielded her through her childhood. The power coming off her is too strong not to be noticed unless hidden intentionally by someone skilled at deception.”

Unbeknownst to them, Jack was listening in- not intentionally, he had a question for one of his chosen fathers, the angel Castiel, but as he walked up the hallway, towards the library where the three hunters and single angel were gathered, he heard his father call him an abomination. Confused and upset, he fled to the girl he had met thirty minutes prior.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second chapter up! Woo! Y'all, I want/need a beta. Also, tell me what you think! (Be nice tho.) Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

The ring of holy fire had died down, leaving the room with a chill in the air. Tears had slipped down my cheeks as I prayed and cried silently. There was no answer, hadn’t been for months, but it didn’t hurt to try. However, it also did nothing to alleviate the pain in my chest. 

I heard the locks of the door undo, and I sniffed, and tried to erect my façade of confidence, when Jack quietly slipped through the door, and I thought left the door slightly ajar, as I didn’t hear it shut. Having my back to the door sucked, on multiple levels.   
He hesitantly stepped into my line of sight. “You’ve been crying,” he stated. “Yes,” I replied simply, and Jack quirked his head. I smiled softly, it seems that was a habit he had picked up from Cas. “Why?” 

I sniffed again, willing that no more tears came. “I’m frustrated, and a little scared.” Jack’s face softened a little. “Are you scared because we are both abominations?” he asked, stuttering slightly over the last word. My head snapped up. “Who told you that?” I countered, voice hardening a little. Jack frowned. “I overheard Castiel say it.” 

I snorted. “Castiel doesn’t have a stone to throw when it comes to being considered an abomination by Heaven.” I sighed. “I’m pretty sure our granddad didn’t say that we’re freaks, if that makes you feel better. I think it was just a way to keep the angels in line. Make sure they didn’t fall too in love with humanity, or whatever.”

I paused, waiting for Jack to reply, but he was looking intently at the ground. “I’m scared because I did really just want to talk to you, and the others, I guess. And I didn’t want to fight you. I especially didn’t want to fight Castiel. And now I’m powerless, and trapped, and I don’t like being underground, and I’m certain Dean wants to grill himself a bit of half angel.”

Jack now shifted his eyes to me but refused to make eye contact with me. “Why do you want to talk to me?” Now it was my turn to avoid eye contact. I sighed, and shifted a little in my chair. “The long answer is complicated. The short answer is that I know what it’s like, to be a powered up half angel, and its kinda overwhelming. To have so much power, and so many emotions, and a lot of different people wanting different things from you and for you. You’ve been alive for, what, 9 months? I still struggle with that stuff, and I’m, like, centuries old at this point.”

Jack hummed, and then his eyes widened in distress, flicking past me. I heard angry footsteps, and then multiple people barged into my little room, slamming the door open. 

“Jack! Get over here, right now!” Dean yelled, furious. I winced, and cowered a little. An angry Dean was not one that I wanted to see, not that I could. Having my back to the door really sucked. 

Sam appeared in my line of sight, and quickly herded Jack away from where I was. He had stepped over the embers of the holy fire, to get closer to me. Jack protested Sam handling him like a child, and glanced over to me. Dean caught the look, and yelled at Jack, “No, don’t look at her! You shouldn’t be in here, Jack, you shouldn’t be talking to her! She tried to hurt you!”

I wanted to argue, but Jack beat me to it. “Why can’t I be in here? I talked to her, she said she didn’t want to hurt me! She could’ve hurt me, and she didn’t!” Jack’s eyes flashed a dangerous yellow. 

Sam cut in quickly, before a much longer shouting match could ensue. “Jack, we don’t know if she’s lying or not. We don’t know who she is, or what she does want, or who she’s working for. She could be manipulating you. We just want you to be safe.”

“For what it’s worth,” I piped up, “you guys haven’t really given me much opportunity to answer you. You’re all stick, no carrot. A girl needs incentives, you know?” Bad choice of words. Dean stormed over to where I could see him, stepped over the holy oil embers, and had the audacity to hold my blade to my throat. “How bout your carrot be that you maybe walk out of here with your life?”

I rolled my eyes, but panicked internally. “How bout my carrot be that you stop acting like I murdered your mom, and maybe extinguish that holy oil campfire?” Dean’s eyes flashed darkly, and not for the first time did I wish that this whole first encounter had gone down a different way. “We already got the thing that murdered my mom, and I killed it,” Dean fumed. “You might be next if you don’t start talking, angel.” He twisted the last word, drawing it out bitterly. 

I swallowed thickly. “Well, you’re definitely big on asking politely, huh, Dean?”

He recoiled a little, then recovered. He pressed my knife harder against my throat. “How do you know my name, bitch?” I truly rolled my eyes at that. “Dude, I don’t think there’s a non-human left in all of god’s green earth that doesn’t know who you, Sam, and Cas are. Besides, little secret? I’ve been watching this whole trainwreck of a situation go down since my little cuz over there was born.”

Yet another wrong thing to say. “That was months ago!” Dean hissed, and I felt my trapped grace begin to squirm under the pressure of the knife. Hell, I was squirming under the pressure of the knife. My knife really was made from an archangel blade, the half I had donated to me by my dear old dad. It could do serious damage to me, kill me even, if Dean really wanted to. My ‘I’m in control’ façade began to crack even more, but I steadfastly tried to hold onto my bravado. 

“Yes, I am aware,” I said, less than evenly. Sam noticed that I was cracking, and crowded a little closer, having finally escorted Jack out of the room. “Why didn’t you help us?” Sam interjected. With that I faltered. “I… it’s complicated, guys,” I muttered, and fell silent. 

I figured not talking was my best option, since I wasn’t at liberty to disclose my mission willy-nilly. Especially not with Jack potentially in earshot. I wanted to establish trust, and a rapport with him. I figured saying that the big g o d and my dad didn’t want him torching the planet, so I was sent to babysit probably wouldn’t endear me to the kid. Especially given how already protective of the kid Winchester & co were. I could relate to not wanting to be babied, even if by human time Jack was still supposed to be an infant. 

I felt a firm hand on my shoulder, and I flinched, and tried as best I could to shake off the grip. However, I just wriggled helplessly in my chains. The hand released my shoulder, and walked around so I could see who had grabbed me. 

It was Bobby- not my world Bobby, but the one from the burned and broken world. He took the knife from Dean, and shooed him and Sam a way away from me. “Kid, this is a neat knife you got here,” Bobby said. I nodded warily. That thing could easily wipe me out and I was not the biggest fan of my own weapon being turned against me. “Did you make this?” 

I shrugged, averting my eyes. 

He handed the knife to Sam, and then reached out and grabbed my jaw, forcing me to look at him. “Girl, I don’t want to hurt you. But we’re gonna need answers. You’ve been spying on the boys for months now, and from what I’ve heard a bunch of unsavory characters are after Jack. They also just wanna ‘talk.’” Bobby air quoted with his free hand. “So you can understand our concern.”

“Like I said,” I muttered, “it’s complicated.” 

Sam walked up, standing shoulder to shoulder with Bobby. “We have time. Why don’t you start with your name?”

I sighed and groaned internally. It was going to be a very long night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know if y'all want my chapter lengths to change! Still want/need a beta reader, hmu if you're willing. As usual, feel free to lemme know what you think but be nice! Thanks!


	4. Chapter 4

Cas and Jack hung out in the library, waiting for the three men to leave the dungeon. Jack was itching to go back in there, to talk to the girl. “Castiel, I’m sure she’s telling the truth,” Jack wheedled. Cas stared intently at the door to the dungeon, not so sure. “Jack,” he started solemnly, “are you willing to bet the lives of everyone in this bunker? Are you that sure she’s telling the truth?”

With that, Jack paused his pacing. He fell silent, and after a few moments of pondering, there was a quiet, “no.” Castiel nodded. “You know there are multiple factions after you, to use you for one reason or another. Sam and Dean want to prevent that.”  
Jack nodded. “I’m going to go to my room,” he muttered, and slowly padded off. 

Castiel frowned after him. He didn’t want Jack to lose his faith in humanity, or in angel kind, or in Nephilim-kind, but Jack was young, and a little naïve. Castiel knew all too well, though, that even age may not help Jack’s naivete. It certainly hadn’t helped his.

OOOOOOOOO

“Trisha?” Dean exclaimed, incredulous. “You’re some shady Nephilim chick that’s apparently hundreds of years old and your name is Trisha?”

I winced. “Yea, I heard that last bit of your little pow-wow with Jack,” Dean said, leering a little.

“In my defense,” I started, “Trisha is the modernized version of my name. Also, I’m not as shady as you’re trying to paint me. I’m more cryptic than anything else.”

Sam, who was pacing behind me, snorted. I craned my head back to try and see him. “Hey, tree-man, can you not walk behind me like that?” Dean let a puff of aborted laughter. “What, he’s making you nervous?” Dean prodded.

Avoiding eye contact, I sighed and admitted, “yea, a little bit. I am your prisoner, still, I’m rendered powerless and I can’t move, and you have a knife that could off me. I feel like me feeling nervous is justified.”

Bobby blanched, but I could tell that they all understood my point. They may be assholes for locking me and my powers up, but they apparently weren’t complete dicks one hundred percent of the time. Sam stepped back in to my field of vision, and I offered him a weak half smile. 

Sam sighed, and sat on one of the chairs they had dragged into the room. It was much plusher than the metal chair I was tied to, and I eyed it enviously. “You keep saying it’s complicated. Why don’t you just tell us? Then we could maybe let you go.”   
I sent him a skeptical look, and given the way Bobby and Dean shared a meaningful glance, I had a feeling they were skeptical of that being a possibility, too. Sam had the decency to look half-ashamed by saying that, and I cut him a little slack. He and Bobby had by far been the gentlest of my captors, and not being brutalized by the two of them raised their status in my book a little. 

I breathed deeply. “Listen, when I say it’s complicated, I mean it’s seriously fucked up. And unfortunately, if I tell you specifics that could fuck up the plan.” Sam cocked an eyebrow. “There’s a plan?” Dean picked up my knife and eyed me meaningfully. “And your plan won’t be fucked up if you never leave this room?”

“Cut the theatrics, Dean. Either kill me, or don’t. I’m too old and too tired to deal with this bullshit right now.” I said, exasperatedly. Dean scowled. “Unfortunately, Trisha,” he drawled out my name, “we need to figure out how many players there are in this plan of yours.”

I groaned. “Can we do this tomorrow?” I begged. Dean’s face hardened. “No.” 

Sam stood up from his chair, and pulled Dean to the side. Words were exchanged, and Dean was obviously not happy about what was said. Granted, I hadn’t seen anything during today that proved Dean could be happy. Dean glowered at Sam, and then me. “Fine,” he muttered, “but she’s staying chained in the chair, Sam.” “Hey!” I protested. “I said I’m old! I’m gonna get stiff.” Dean stalked out of the dungeon without a second glance, but he threw over his shoulder a gruff, “Deal with it, bitch.”

I turned my head to appeal to Sam, but he was unsympathetic to my cause. “See you bright and early tomorrow, girl,” said Bobby, and with that Sam and Bobby flicked the lights off, and left the room. After the door shut after them, I heard the multiple locks affixed to it snap securely shut.

“What if I have to pee?!” I yelled after them. I got no response.

OOOOOOOOOO

Dean, Sam, Bobby, and Cas gathered in the kitchen this time, just to ensure they were out of the way of prying ears. “Well,” Bobby started, “we got somewhere with her.” “Yea,” Dean scoffed. “A fake name is definitely somewhere. Somewhere useless!”  
“Maybe it is legitimately a derivative of her old name,” Sam mused. “Cas, has there been any instances of Nephilim in the last, say, 500 years? Other than Jack, of course.”

“Like I said earlier, not in my memory. Her angel parent must have warded heavily against the Host.” Castiel replied thoughtfully. 

“What angel would have enough mojo to swing that?” Bobby asked. “I would think that’s pretty powerful stuff, to manage to hide a rug rat for a couple centuries.” Dean sighed. “I’m gonna get a beer and go to bed. I’m tired of dealing with angel bullshit.”

Sam and Bobby traded a loaded glance. Dean didn’t notice, nor did he notice how Castiel watched him leave, looking a little hurt. 

OOOOOOOOO

I woke to cold water being dumped on me. I sputtered and once my airway was clear, I let out an indignant screech of, “what the FUCK?” I blinked furiously and flipped wet strings of my hair out of my face. I looked up to see Dean Winchester, asshole extraordinaire, grinning down on me. “Morning, sunshine,” he said, with a shit eating grin on his face. I scowled at him. 

“Do Nephilim need to eat? Or shit or piss or anything?” He asked, grin dimming a little.

With the reminder that food was indeed still a thing, my stomach growled viscously. “Yes, to all of the above,” I replied. I was reluctant to admit it, but a girl has needs. Dean’s grin dropped from his face. “What, you can’t grace away your problems?” he asked.   
“Not with these pretty pieces of jewelry on, asshat. Take off these cuffs and I can fix any problem I got. But with these shackles on me I am painfully, 100% human.”

Dean hummed, instead of deigning me with a reply. He turned on his heel, and left me in the room, soaking wet, hungry, and still more than a little pissed off. “Get back here, you ape!” I called after him, to no avail. Instead, Castiel walked in. “Good morning, Trisha,” he said, in his gravelly voice. “Oh yea, it’s all sunshine and rainbows from where I’m sitting, Cas.”

He came closer to me, and I eyed him warily. Being manhandled, knocked out, and threatened multiple times by someone is bound to make one a little cautious. “Dean has alerted me to some of your more…. Human problems. Would you like me to assist you?”

He stepped even closer. “You… you won’t knock me out, or like, kill me, will you?” I asked hesitantly. “No,” Castiel replied. “We need you alive and conscious, so you can answer our questions.” “Well that’s reassuring,” I muttered. “Yea, fine, if you promise not to zap me dead I guess I’ll take some help.”

Castiel looked at me very solemnly. Doing things solemnly seemed to be his game. “I promise.” And with that, two of his fingers were on my forehead and all my human needs were taken care of. 

“That’s a convenient way to do things.” I half-joked. Castiel merely blinked at me. “If you do not require any more assistance, I will go fetch Sam and Dean,” he stated. I slumped a little in my seat. “If you have to, Cas.”  
“Would you instead wish that I remain here and question you, in the place of them?” he asked. “Honestly?” I answered. “I instead wish that I can get out of this damn chair and answer your questions without it being an interrogation.”

Castiel looked at me almost sadly. “I’m afraid I cannot do that, Nephilim.” I sighed. “Yea, uncle Cas, I figured.”

He cocked his head at me. “Why did you call me that?” I froze. “What, uncle Cas?” I asked innocently, trying to play it off. He nodded seriously. “Well up in heaven all the angels are brothers and sisters, right? I just thought… since my dad is an angel, that makes you and all the other angels my aunts and uncles?” I blathered. 

“Your... father?” Castiel asked. Oh, shit. I let that slip. “You know your parental lineage?” He asked eagerly. My eyes widened. “I…. just assumed it would be my dad? Angels seem like the love em and leave em type?”  
Castiel eyed me suspiciously. I offered a weak, anxious smile. He turned on his heel and walked out of the room, leaving me alone and in the dark, again. 

OOOOOOOOO

Castiel hurriedly walked into the kitchen, where the Winchesters and a couple other hunters were enjoying breakfast. “Woah, Cas, where’s the fire?” Dean asked worriedly. “It’s regarding our, um, young guest,” Cas said semi evasively. The other hunters in the kitchen raised their eyebrows, and at Bobby’s cleared throat, all found reasons to leave the kitchen. 

“Trisha’s angelic parent is male.” Castiel stated. Dean paused. “Um, so? It’s one of two options, right?” Castiel sighed. “There are angels that take exclusively male vessels, others that take exclusively female vessels, some who take without care to their vessel’s gender and some who don’t ever take on a human form. We now know Trisha’s parent is likely one who takes almost exclusively male vessels, as she called them ‘father,’ not parent, or mother.” 

Dean rest his head on his arms and groaned. Sam grinned. “Welcome to angel gender studies 101, with professor Castiel,” he joked. Castiel blinked, and broke out into a hesitant smile. Dean, face still in his arms, blushed, not that anyone noticed.   
“So, anyway, Cas,” Sam continued, not one to be distracted for very long. “How much does that narrow down the celestial wavelength donor pool?”

Castiel cleared his throat, looking a little uncomfortable. “About by half.” Sam winced. “That’s… not awful,” Sam said optimistically.

“Not ideal, though,” interjected Bobby. “And besides, after everything that’s gone on post apocalypse, how likely is it that daddy dearest of the Nephilim in there is still alive?”

Now Castiel truly looked distressed. Sam coughed forcefully, with a ‘hey, be sensitive’ glare directed towards Bobby. “Oh, um, sorry, Cas,” Bobby muttered, and then took a deep sip of his coffee and grimaced.

“Do you think we can force her dad’s name out of her?” Dean asked, blush finally subsided. Sam shook his head. “No, Dean, I think she actually has a point. With the carrot versus stick thing. I don’t think that trying to torture it out of her is the way to go.”  
“Then how? She’s an unknown variable, Sam, we can’t let her go wandering around the bunker! We certainly can’t let her out of the bunker. She could be some angel sleeper agent! Hell, she could not even be an angel at all, just some demon with a fancy knife, like Ruby was!”

“Dean,” Cas said seriously. “Trisha is indeed a Nephilim, you tested her yourself. Whether or not she is ‘some angel sleeper agent’ like you said is uncertain, but she is certainly not a demon. She is a Nephilim, like Jack, and I suspect if, or when, she gets out of her restraints, she may be equal or greater in power, or control of her powers, than Jack is.”

“Great, because we totally need another half angel tiny person with daddy issues running around.” Dean retorted, staring at the wall past Cas.   
“Dean,” Sam chided. However, Dean forcefully stood up, chair screeching as it moved, and exited the room. Sam, Cas, and Bobby remained, and Sam and Cas shared a look. Bobby merely snorted, and without a second glance returned to his breakfast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dean is kinda an asshole, I know. I promise that later on (....much later on) Dean will be much more like the loving Dean we know!   
> Lemme know what you think!


	5. Chapter 5

The door clicked open, and the lights buzzed to life. It’s frustrating how I’m already beginning to crave interaction with other live beings. The dust motes and the dark are lacking conversationalists, and are poor methods of telling time.

I perked up as Sam and Bobby walked into my line of sight. “Hey, guys, here to beat more info out of me?” I asked, hoping my chipper mood might throw them off.

Sam smirked, a little regretfully. Bobby on the other hand just snorted. “No, kid, we’re here to babysit. And if you really behave, you might even get some playtime.” I really started paying attention to that. “You’re serious?” I said, not wanting to get my hopes up, but doing it anyway. “Like, you’ll let me walk around?” I don’t know exactly how long I’ve been held in here, probably for a little longer than two days, if my estimations are right.

Bobby nodded. “You just need to share a little something about yourself, and you get a lap around the room.” With that, I hesitated. “A little something?” Sam cut in. “We ask you one question, we get one answer, you get one lap.” I shifted wistfully. “Can I veto questions?” Sam glanced at Bobby, who cocked his head. Sam answered me, “You can always choose not to answer, but that means you don’t get to walk.” I groaned. “Fine, shoot.”

Sam grinned, looking a little too much like a wolf in sheep’s clothing, about to reveal the trick. “Easy question to start with, since you’ve been cooped up for a while. What are you?”

I shifted. “I’m Nephilim, with a-. Wait, that’s my one answer. Can I walk now?” I sent a winning grin to Sam. Sam frowned minutely. I glanced over to Bobby, and he was staring at me with narrowed eyes. But he looked at Sam and nodded his assent. “Don’t try anything, girl.” Bobby warned. “Dean isn’t the only one with angel killing bullets.”

I gulped nervously, eyes flicking between the two of them. “Gotcha, loud and clear. No funky business.” Bobby stood across the room from me, as Sam unchained me from the chair. He left me in the arm and leg shackles, and I frowned. “What, I’m not allowed to stretch?” I complained.

Sam shook his head. “Just freedom from the chair, for now.” I grunted my acknowledgement. I slowly stood up, face contorting as stiff muscles screamed their discontent. I started my slow shuffle around the room, with Sam behind me, holding me on a length of chain, and Bobby diligently staying directly across the room from me, making sure I didn’t try to escape, or harm either of them.

When I had completed the slow circle, Sam regarded me seriously. “Another question, or do you want to sit?” It was a quick decision. “Another question,” I said, a little eagerly. He looked at me intently. “You were going to finish your sentence, before. What were you going to say?” I thought quickly, wanting to drag this out as much as possible, without angering them. “I’m Nephilim, with a bit of something else.”

Bobby grunted his displeasure, and Sam pulled a face. I withdrew as much as I could, bound and tied to Sam with a length of Enochian inscribed chain. Sam blinked, as if he were suddenly aware of how small I was, physically, compared to him. I suppose I looked like a scared 18-year-old girl. Technically, this body, my current body, was 18, and in the scheme of things, I was quite young compared to the rest of the angels. 

Sam also had a foot and at least 80 pounds on me, and I could only imagine how helpless I looked, sleep deprived, bedraggled, and miserable. Probably just about as helpless as I felt. “Alright,” Sam sighed, “let’s take another lap.” After another painstakingly slow lap, I requested to sit. “But just to sit for now? I want to walk, more, but everything hurts, currently.”

Sam nodded, still holding at me at arm’s length on the chain. I eased myself down onto ‘my’ chair. Sam looked at me, almost pityingly. I cradled my head in my hands as I caught my breath, and willed my muscles and joints to calm the hell down. I regained my composure, a little, and looked back up at Sam. “Ok, next invasive question?”

“How old are you?” He asked, searching my face for any ticks that might give me away. I quirked my eyebrows at him. “Sam, don’t you know it’s rude to ask a lady her age?” I teased, trying to avoid the question for as long as possible. Bobby snorted. “You should’ve seen that one coming, boy."

“Can I answer a question with another question?” I asked, legitimately. Sam mulled it over. “It doesn’t count give you a lap, you have to give me a solid answer.” He looked at me, seriously. “So?” I reluctantly murmured, “my grace-soul or this body?” Sam seemed confused, brow furrowing. “Say that again?”

“You heard me!” I said defensively. My captor looked at me appraisingly. “Your, what did you call it? Your grace- soul?” I nodded. “It’s the best name I can come up for it. Humans have souls, angels have grace, I have both, and they’re inseparable. Can’t have one without the other, if I want to stay a functioning… whatever the hell I am.” 

I looked up at him, grinning. “Does that count as a question?” Sam rolled his eyes. Bobby, more uninterested now that I was behaving, just waved his hand dismissively at Sam. “I suppose that does.”

OOOOOOOOO

Jack was not sulking in his room. As one of the most powerful being in all of creation, he was certainly not sulking. He was a powerful Nephilim, not some petulant human child. He sighed. He reluctantly admitted to himself that if he was sulking in his room, it would be totally justified. He was thankful that Sam, Dean, Cas, and the others cared so much about his safety; moral purity. Grateful, even. 

But he was a highly powered half human. And he certainly wasn’t a child- he grew up quickly, like his mother said he should. So his fathers treating him like one was totally unnecessary- sweet, for sure, but unneeded. So, he reasoned, since he wasn’t a child, it would be ok if he went and talked to the girl in the dungeon. His dads were doing it, so why couldn’t he?

To avoid being seen by the other hunters, as he got the feeling they were still wary of him, or his dads or Bobby, as they wouldn't like Jack going to see the new girl, Jack decided to fly into the dungeon. However, instead of quietly ‘poofing’ behind the girl’s chair, unseen, like he expected, he instead landed with a loud flap of wings, nose to nose with the girl he meant to surprise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's short, I know! Next chapter should a) be up shortly and b) be longer! I just didn't want to cut up the action. Also, I go my first EVER kudos! (Thanks, TaintedRain22) Also also, I should reallyyyy be doing my intro to oceanography hw right now... oops. Have a chapter instead.


	6. Chapter 6

I was enjoying my third lap, halfway across the room from my damned chair, my muscles finally unknotting, when a loud clap of wings shutting heralded Jack appearing in the room. Two inches away from my face.   
I jumped, as did Sam. 

Unfortunately, his jump was more of a full-bodied jerk that yanked my chain, and me, backwards. I stumbled, and fell, the six inches of slack chain between my ankle cuffs not giving me much opportunity to catch myself. As I fell, Sam released my chain and stood above me semi- protectively. 

I landed flat on my ass, and hit the ground with a loud ‘oof.’ I groaned, and laid back on the cold cement of the dungeon. “Ow,” I half heartedly protested. As I leaned my head back, I saw that across the room from me, Bobby had stood up in his chair, also visibly startled. His gun was drawn, and was aimed somewhere between me and Jack. 

“What the hell, boy?” Bobby demanded. Jack had yet to react, eyes wide. Obviously, he had planned on that going a different way. “Jack?!” Sam yelled, no doubt still shaken, but as the confusion waned his anger waxed. “Yea, what the hell, man?” Sam continued.

I just groaned on the floor. “Y’all are awful upset for people not chained up & on the floor… although depending on what you’re into…” I trailed off. Neither of the men in the room were listening to me, eyes and fury trained on my cousin. 

“Listen, guys, it’s great that we’re all upset and confused by what just happened. But, more important question than why Jack is here and why he’s so awful at flying covertly- If I get up, will I be shot?” I snarked. But my question wasn’t entirely rhetorical- I had no desire to be hurt/ more disabled/ killed just because my bumbling child cousin wanted to chat and couldn’t walk in the door like a normal person. 

Bobby glared down at me. “Stay down, girl,” he instructed. I sighed. “Fine,” I pouted on the floor. I wiggled into a semi comfortable and watched the drama above me enfold, glad the attention was at least momentarily off me. 

Sam was furious. He was pacing above me, shoulders tense, face in a scowl. Bobby was less visibly upset, and as the more clear headed one in the room, still had his gun drawn, although it was now trained on me. I rolled my eyes. I wish the boys wouldn’t see me as such a threat to them or my precious cousin. If anything, I should have something to defend myself against them, as they had done the most damage in all our interactions. 

Jack, for what it was worth, looked like he wanted to melt into the floor. I couldn’t blame him, honestly; Sam Winchester was an impressive man, and his anger directed at you was not something you wanted. Why Jack didn’t fly away, though, was beyond me. Maybe he thought it would be a bad idea? 

Sam sighed, ran his hand through his hair, and visibly reigned in his anger somewhat, so instead of yelling he just spoke forcedly. “Jack, why did you come in here?”

Jack avoided eye contact with Sam, and Bobby. He seemed to be studying my shoes. “I just… wanted to speak with her,” he murmured. Sam’s jaw ticked. “Jack,” he paused, looking for the right words, or patience, or something. “We’ve discussed this. We want to make sure she doesn’t want to hurt you or use you, before you can talk to her.”

Now it was Jack’s turn to clench his jaw. “I’m not a child, Sam,” he bit out. This seemed to be a big issue for him. I huffed out a heavy breath, and interjected. 

“Actually, bucko, you are a kid. Maybe not physically, and I gotta admit for someone who’s not even a year old you got a great handle on the walking, talking, emotions things, but you are still a child. By human standards, you should be learning to walk right now. By angel standards, you would still be in development! I’m a couple centuries old and I’m still considered a child by everything divine. So, Jack, you gotta get over them treating you like a kid. You are throwing a nice version of a temper tantrum, and you are so, so young.” 

I then turned my attention to Sam and Bobby. “But you guys, I’ve told you multiple times that I don’t want to hurt Jack, I want to help him. And not in the fucked up, ‘kill a million souls and you’ll become all powerful’ help kind of way either. You wanna know the truth? As a fellow Nephilim with bitchin’ powers, who’s been around a bit longer than Jack here, I have a pretty decent handle on the whole ‘let’s not accidentally torch the earth’ thing. That’s what I’m here to help my darling cuz out with.” 

I cut myself off, as Bobby cocked his pistol. I swallowed heavily. “Ok, I’ll shut up now,” I said sheepishly. Sam hauled me up and frog marched me back to my chair. “Playtime’s over,” he muttered. “You think?”  
He tightly bound me back to the chair, and once I was secure, he hauled Jack forcibly out of the room. Bobby trailed behind them. He glanced at me, sympathy and suspicion warring in his eyes. He walked out of my line of sight, and the lights flicked off, yet again. “Great,” I said to the empty room. “That went great.”

OOOOOOOOO

Sam dragged Jack into the kitchen by his wrist, where Dean was nursing a beer, and Cas watched Dean intently. Sam pulled a face. “Dean, it’s, like, 3 in the afternoon.” “Five o’clock somewhere, Sammy.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “We have bigger problems, Dean. Jack here tried to talk to Trisha. Again.” Dean scowled, and took a long pull from his beer. Jack winced, waiting for the onslaught. “He wants to talk to her so bad, let him. Get someone to watch them, get Cas to make sure nothing hinky goes down. I don’t care anymore.” He sighed, grabbed his beer, and stalked out of the kitchen. Castiel watched after him, a little wistfully, but didn’t follow. 

Sam walked over to the fridge, and pulled himself out a beer. “Cas, Bobby?” Bobby nodded his assent, and Cas didn’t answer. Sam handed Bobby his beer, and set a water in front of Cas and Jack. Jack stared at his water solemnly, willing it to become a beer. It stayed unchanged. 

“I do want to talk to her,” Jack said. “Her name is Trisha, right? Do we know who her father is?”

Bobby scoffed. “Her modern name is Trisha. Don’t have a damned clue what her real name is. Doesn’t matter much, though. I bet if her daddy managed to shield her for however many centuries she’s been alive, we won’t find much in the lore about her. Or in the history books, either.”

Castiel spoke. “The part of her that is grace… it seems familiar. I have met her father before.”

“Well that’s great. That narrows it down to how many angels?” Sam asked rhetorically. Castiel, not being one for rhetorical questions, answered him seriously. “A couple hundred, in theory. However, I find it unlikely that many angels, pre-apocalypse, would rebel. This eliminates many potential fathers of hers. Unfortunately, I do not know all of the angels who rebelled, especially before I was active on earth.”

Sam nodded thoughtfully. “Make a list anyway. I’ll do some research. Jack, don’t talk to Trisha unless you have someone else with you.”

Jack stayed silent, still willing the water to turn into beer. “Jack, son, we need you to answer,” Bobby pressed. “Yes, Sam,” Jack replied flatly. “I will not talk to Trisha unless I have someone else with me.”


	7. Chapter 7

The dark was getting oppressive. In my vulnerable, miserably human state, the dark was truly… black. Before, it was merely a little dimmer before, my grace allowing me to peel away the layers of black. Now, I couldn’t see a thing, and I hated it. And the silence? Before it was never completely silent. I was able to hear atoms vibrating, the heartbeats of creatures miles away. Not anymore. With my grace bound, I could only hear my own heartbeat, and breathing. I felt so… helpless. 

I’d been praying to my dad and gramps for days, with no response. Given, with no grace I couldn’t exactly hear any responses they may have been throwing back at me. 

I shifted as best I could, the chains cutting into my skin even more. My fingertips were going numb, and I hadn’t been able to feel my feet in a while. I hoped they came back soon, if only to get some two-sided conversation. Stewing in my juices wasn’t fun, especially when I couldn’t do anything but stew in them. 

This was a bad idea from the start, I had known that. But I hadn’t planned on it going this south. 

The lights flicked on, and I winced, twisting my head to try and avoid the burning bright. “Rise and shine, angel bitch,” growled Dean. 

“A) ow. B) you know, chucklehead, I’m part human too,” I said. Dean smirked. “I’m not so convinced of that.”

I felt something dripping on my hair, and down my face. I recoiled as much as I could. Holy oil. The asshole was dripping oil on me, and no doubt just waiting for me to make a wrong move to turn me into Nephilim barbeque. “So, bitch, you’re going to tell me who your angelic daddy is. Or I’m gonna fry me up some freak.”

I flinched. “Dean, I can’t tell you. Swear to granddad, I cannot tell you.” I heard a lighter flick open. 

At that same moment, the door creaked open. “Dean,” Castiel ground out. “Stop.” 

Dean looked past me, to the trenchcoated angel. “Why, Cas? For all we know, she’s lying to us, about everything. I think if she is really half halo, she’ll be more willing to spill if we dip her in oil.” Castiel hesitated. “Dean. You can’t always shoot first, ask questions later.”

The asshole hunter grunted. “Fine, no oil. But I’m gonna use the knife.” My eyes widened, and I stiffened. Crap. I have no desire for them to start poking and prodding at me with my own knife, again. “Yea, that got your attention, didn’t it.” The hunter gave me an empty smile. “Start talking or I start slicing. And trust me, I’m really good at what I do.”

“So, angel girl, who’s your daddy?” He questioned, brandishing my angel blade threateningly. I bit down my fear, and made eye contact with him. “That’s the way you’re gonna word this?” I snarked, and sent him back a ballsy grin.  
He smiled emptily, and pressed the cold blade against my cheek. “Yes.” I swallowed nervously, despite my dry mouth.

“Dean,” Castiel said cautiously, taking a small step towards the man.

Dean glared at him, and he forced the blade deeper into my skin. “Shut up, Cas! You don’t like it, you can leave. This is how I handle people messing with my family, you know that,” he said forcefully, not making eye contact with the angel.  
Cas stepped around me, and placed his hand firmly on Dean’s shoulder. “Dean, she is family, to Jack and I.” However, for all the family talk Cas had, he barely looked at me, eyes all for the plaid coated hunter. 

Dean looked astonished and hurt, and shook off Cas’ hand. “Family? You barely know her! She spied on us, Cas!” Dean cried indignantly. “Cas, we’ve known each other for years. You count as family. Her? Not so much. You know that.”   
Castiel winced, and looked a little guilty. I was tense, but internally let down my guard enough to roll my eyes. Of course the Dean Winchester-esque proclamation of love, of being family, would happen now. Stupid emotionally constipated men. 

Bobby and Sam stepped into my line of sight. Huh, I hadn’t heard them come in. Guess I was too focused on Dean threatening to murder me. Figures, I thought sarcastically. 

“How bout you take a break, son?” said Bobby, not actually asking a question. Dean grunted, threw my knife aside, and stormed past me. 

Bobby looked at me with wary eyes. “You alright, girl?” he questioned, a little sympathy peeking out from behind the wariness. I let out a humorless laugh. “I’ve been better. Been worse too. Wouldn’t hurt if Cas could zap my human problems away again, or if, you know, I could actually stretch.”

Bobby gazed at me thoughtfully. Cas stepped up next to him, and peered at me. “I will ‘zap’ you again, if you tell me which archangel’s blade your knife is fashioned from,” my uncle grated, staring down at me. I chewed on my lip for a second, and then decided to screw the consequences. I had a headache, had to pee, and everything throbbed. Throwing most caution to the wind, I revealed the big secret. 

“Gabriel.” I muttered, not making eye contact and cringing. 

All of the eyebrows in the room shot up. “You’re telling me, you managed to nick Gabriel’s archangel blade and melt it down without getting smited?” Sam said, astonished. I nodded slowly. “I told you, so zap me, would you?” I asked, a little bite in my voice.

Castiel paused. “Tell me how,” he said. 

My eyes snapped to his. Holy crap, they were blue, and filled with barely contained anger and suspicion. “That wasn’t part of the deal, Uncle Cas. So fix me.” I retorted, body tensing up, ready for a fight.  
He merely stared at me, unrelenting. 

“Listen, you ass, these whole super fun trust building exercises go both ways. You honestly can’t expect me to trust you, when all y’all have done is tie me up, threaten my life multiple times, and then refuse me basic human needs.”  
Sam’s hazel eyes looked over my form. I was certain he would find sympathy on me. I didn’t have a mirror on me, but I could feel the oil clumping my hair, the tear tracts on my cheeks, the bruises from lack of sleep around my eyes. In short, I looked like shit.

“You aren’t entirely human, though.” Sam stated gravely. He gestured with his head, and Bobby, Cas, and him walked out of my line of sight. I heard the door shut, and all the locks click back into place. 

“Fuck!” I screamed my frustration to the seemingly empty room. “Dad, you dick,” I sobbed, “I swear to Gramps, you better not be in that ‘witness protection’, ignoring me, bullcrap again. I know you sent me to help Jack, but you gotta help me. I can’t do this anymore!” Tears streamed down my face, even though I couldn’t afford to lose any more water. 

“Witness protection, huh?” Someone from behind me asked. I flinched. Guess not everyone had left the room like I thought. I felt a large hand grab a chunk of my hair firmly, and pull my head back so I bared my throat to the empty room. My breath hitched, and my body tensed. Adrenaline coursed through my veins, with nowhere to go, nothing to do other than sit and desperately pray. 

“See,” Sam said, slowly, drawing this out, “I only know one angel who went into ‘witness protection.’” My blade was pressed against where my jaw met my throat. “That angel was dead, last I checked. Although, he does have a history of faking his own death. But it is entirely possible you legitimately killed your father for his blade, no?” 

Tears ran freely down my face. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I protested halfheartedly, terrified. “Oh, I think you do.” Sam said, confidently. “Admit who your father is, or I’ll kill you with this blade here and now.” 

The stout, keen blade dug in deeper to my throat. Blood trickled down my neck, into my shirt, and my grace shone out brilliantly from the cut. Dean seemed to be all talk, whereas Sam was all action. I felt a twinge on my grace, and I gave in to his demand.   
“Gabriel,” I whispered, and Sam let go of my hair. I hung my head brokenly, and started to sob. “My father is Gabriel.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun dunnnnn! Tell me what you think!   
> Also, I'm trying not to run out of story to post, so that means updates will slow as I'm writing.   
> Please forgive any mistakes since I'm unbeta'd


	8. Chapter 8

Sam strode into the library, looking equal parts victorious and disturbed. Bobby looked up from the old tome he was reading, and Castiel kept his back turned to Sam, studying something. Bobby addressed the elephant room. “You get a name, or a corpse?”   
Sam huffed, and threw the bloodstained archangel blade on the table Bobby was sitting at. “A name.”

“Wanna share with the class, princess?” Bobby asked, perturbed. 

“Gabriel,” Sam said flatly. Castiel whipped around to face Sam. “Her father is the archangel Gabriel?” He demanded. Sam sighed, barely believing it himself. “That’s what she said. I guess she could be lying, but she’s a really good little actress if she was.”  
“I suspect if you had her father’s blade to her throat, she would not lie.” Castiel said thoughtfully. “It does explain why I find the grace she possesses familiar.”

“Explains her attitude, too,” Sam pondered. “And if you get a little creative I can see how they look alike. Same hair, similar nose, all that.”

Castiel nodded. “She said that her father sent her on a mission, though. Since when does Gabriel give a crap about other angels, though?” Sam asked. 

Bobby sighed. “Well, I wasn’t on this rock when apocalypse #1 rolled around, but Gabriel was involved in that one, right? Maybe he doesn’t want his big brother’s spawn to mess up the earth he’s hiding on.”

“Yea,” Sam started, “but unless he faked his death, again? He should be dead. Why would that involve him then?”

“I dunno, boy,” Bobby grouched, glaring at the book in front of him. “Maybe he finally sacked up and started giving a shit.”

OOOOOOOO

At least the lights stayed on, and this time I was certain no one else was in the room with me. I was still pissed at the tall hunter, although I suppose I couldn’t blame him for pulling a trick like that one. Tears dried in their tracks, and blood slowly trickled down my throat. My grace still shone brightly, as I couldn’t heal it bound like I was. 

I sniffed, still pissed off and distraught by how easily I folded under the pressure. The door creaked open. 

“I’m really not in the mood, guys,” I said bitterly. Castiel stood where I could see him, and quirked an eyebrow at me. I stared back at him defiantly, tears welling but for the moment staying off my cheeks. He stepped closer to me, and gestured to my throat where blood and grace seeped out. “May I?”

I scoffed. “Oh, now we’re asking for consent?” Castiel didn’t respond to my prodding, but instead stepped closer, waiting for a real answer. I rolled my eyes, and tilted my head back, hoping his offer to heal me was legitimate, and not some cruel trick to get close to my grace. He put his hand firmly over the wound, and I felt his grace rush to close my cut and soothe my raw grace. 

I unconsciously leaned into his touch- it had been a while since I had felt a truly gentle touch, and even longer since someone’s grace met mine, in a sense other than battle or desperation. Being touch starved was a bitch.

He cocked his head. “I believe I owe you a ‘zapping’ from earlier. My apologies for not doing it earlier.” I shrugged. “You wanted to get information out of me, and withholding things was an effective way of receiving answers.” I said dourly. “However,” I said hesitantly, “if you wanna make it up to me… you could let me take a real shower, and have some real food?”

Castiel looked down at me keenly, looked for any trace of deception or deeper desire on my face. “Let me discuss with Sam and Dean, child,” he said, and walked out of the room. This time, the door shut, but it did not lock. 

OOOOOOOOO

Castiel found the smaller Winchester clan grouped in the kitchen again, quietly eating lunch. Jack looked eagerly over at him, but remained silent. Castiel cleared his throat, gaining the attention of the others. “Trisha wishes to have a real shower, and eat some real food.” Dean grimaced. “What, is you zapping her not enough?”

Castiel frowned at Dean. “Dean, grace sustenance and real sustenance are two different things. Similarly, grace cleaning and taking a real shower are different.” Dean still scowled. “Yea, well, once she starts cooperating with us, maybe she can get a real shower.”

Sam glanced at his brother. “That seems a little harsh.”

Dean stubbornly insisted, “Really, Sam? You think having a naked, pissed off archangel baby loose in the bunker is a fun time?” Sam’s lips quirked up for a second, before resuming his frown back at Dean. “Fine. No shower. But maybe we take her a meal? She has been working with us, a little, and given the circumstances that’s saying a lot.” Dean acquiesced, but he obviously wasn’t happy about it. “No glass, no utensils, Sam.”

Sam let out a little grin, victorious, and went about making their prisoner a sandwich.

OOOOOOOOO  
I surveyed my little room. It was quite bland, really. The walls were a dull dark brown, and I didn’t have any windows or even any visible sigils to shake things up. There was just the two chairs Sam and Bobby had brought in during one of their fun interrogation sessions.

My mind was racing, though. If they granted me my wish of a shower… it wouldn’t be entirely impossible that I couldn’t shake whoever was guarding me long enough to try and make a break for it. 

There was a knock on the door. I snorted. Really? They had me immobilized in here, and they bothered to knock? 

“Don’t come in, I’m changing!” I called out in a falsetto voice, laughing to myself. Sam and Castiel walked in, and Castiel narrowed his eyes at me. “You do not appear to be changing, Trisha.” I raised my eyebrow at him. “Cas, I know you know what a joke is.” He merely shrugged, and pressed two fingers to my forehead. “I really appreciate it, man, but I’m still hungry,” I stated, my eyes on the closer threat, my uncle. 

Sam raised the paper plate he was holding, drawing my attention to him. “You asked for real food, right?” I nodded. “Yea, I did. Are you gonna hand feed me, or am I allowed to feed myself?”

Castiel and Sam exchanged a glance. “You must behave, child.” Cas urged me, and fingered the angle blade on his hip meaningfully. 

I nodded earnestly. Sam handed my uncle the plate with the sandwich on it, and released my right arm, undoing some of the lengths of chain around me. I rotated my wrist and flexed my fingers, and once Sam was out of my arm’s reach, I stretched as much as I could. I groaned, happy I could unknot my muscles a little. Sam and Cas looked at me, and once I was doing enjoying moving, Cas handed me my meal. It was nothing fancy, just a PB&J on wheat, but it was the first thing I had actually eaten in days. Grace can stretch me along for quite a while, but real food is considerably better. 

After I had scarfed down my sandwich, Sam pulled a water bottle out of his pocket. He squeezed it, to show it hadn’t been tampered with, opened it, then handed it to me. I gulped it down greedily, some of the water spilling over onto my chin. The cool water was a relief to my dry throat.

I grinned widely at them. “Thanks, guys.” Sam returned my smile, and Cas looked at me less severely. “Do you want to walk, Trisha?” Castiel asked, quietly. My smile dropped, and I looked to Sam. “Same deal as last time?” This was directed at Sam. He nodded, “yea, but you get one free lap for good behavior,” he said, smiling beatifically at me. 

At this I rolled my eyes a little. They were treating me relatively generously as a prisoner, but it felt like I was more a naughty pet dog more than anything else. “Oh, goody,” I said sarcastically. Sam quirked his brow at me, and his face hardened. “Do you not want to walk?” He asked me, a warning tone in his voice. Shit. 

“No, I do,” I quickly backpedaled. “….please?” Sam dropped his brow. His face softened a little. “Yea, hold on,” he said gently. He quickly released me from the chair, although, like last time, the ankle and handcuffs stayed on me. I stood slowly, and reveled in being able to stand. Many of my joints popped and I sighed. 

We took a lap around the room, and I looked at Sam expectantly. “So?”

Sam grimaced, but looked at me determinedly. “When was the last time you saw your father?”

I looked away, reminded of painful memories and mindful of not giving away all my information at once. “It’s… been a while. At least 3 decades ago.” Sam caught my hesitation. “When was the last time you talked to him?”

“Am I gonna get another lap if I answer that one?” I retorted, answering his question with another question. The tall hunter nodded. “I talked to him about a year ago, through angel radio,” I said. Sam took my answer without comment, and gently tugged on the chain I was on the end of. I managed to get halfway through my second lap, before my leg cramped, and I stumbled. 

Sam turned around just in time to catch me before I hit the ground. “Whoa, you ok?” 

“Yea, cramp,” I replied. Castiel looked on, a slightly worried expression on his face. Whether or not the concern was for me or Sam, though, was unclear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've written 8k more since I've first uploaded.   
> Let me know what y'all think. Thanks for reading!


	9. Chapter 9

Jack was listening in on the situation in the dungeon. So Trisha truly was his cousin. His uncle, their uncle, had placed doubts in his mind, concerning the Nephilim in their creepy basement. He smiled softly. His family was growing bigger. He wondered what it would be like, to have her teach him things, once she was out of the dungeon. Jack was certain that now it was confirmed that they were blood, his older cousin would be released. Eventually. 

But he did want to speak to her now. But to make sure that he didn’t get permanently banished from the dungeon, or hell, the general area of it, he needed to get ‘someone else’ to come with him. Jack scowled a little. He slowly walked through the halls, past hunters who eyed him a little warily, and past the kitchen, where Dean had chewed him out for trying to talk to Trisha, the only person in the bunker remotely like him. He stopped in the library, looking for one of his fathers, or for Bobby. He didn’t see any of them, but the door leading to the dungeon was slightly ajar. He peeked his head in, and saw Castiel intently watching something that Jack couldn’t see. 

He took a small step into the room, and saw Sam easing his cousin up off the floor. Her face was contorted in discomfort, and he paused. He saw the worry on Sam’s face. 

Castiel caught movement in the doorway, and saw Jack gazing over at Sam and the Nephilim girl. “Hello, Jack,” he said. 

Jack stepped into the room completely. “Hey, Jack,” Sam said hesitantly. His cousin, on the other hand, wasn’t hesitant at all. “Hey there, little cuz!” She exclaimed. 

Jack was taken a little aback. “Hello there, big… cuz…” Jack replied, the last word coming out more like a question. He was a little unclear on the new terminology, but she had used it on him in the past. He assumed it was short for ‘cousin.’ “How… are you?” Jack asked her, and then winced a little. 

OOOOOOOOO

“How am I?” I asked Jack, a small smile playing on my lips. “I’m alright, I suppose, for being chained up, rarely allowed to walk, getting zapped for survival, and stuck in a glorified basement.” Sam, Cas, and Jack collectively winced. Small victory for me.

Jack stared at me. I mimicked his head tilt, and looked back at him. “You are my direct cousin, yes?” He asked me. I nodded, and blithely said, “Unless one of our daddies isn’t actually our daddies, then yea, that’s how it works, cuz.” Jack blinked. “…cuz?”  
I chuckled. “Yup, cuz. Short for cousin. Man, I forgot how fun tiny half angels are.” That got a head tilt from all three all of them. 

Castiel peered at me. “You have interacted with other Nephilim, before?” I paused. “Meter still running on the whole one question equals one lap thing?” Castiel glanced to Sam, who nodded affirmative. 

“As one of Heaven’s proclaimed ‘abominations,’ I don’t appreciate me & my weaker powered cousins being hunted. Dear old dad warded me, but the other kids… some of their parents were killed for making more ‘abominations against Heaven,’ others were abandoned by their precious angel parents. So, whenever one of the God squad popped out a new one, I would try and hide the kid,” I replied, keeping up my blithe front. 

Castiel smiled, a little. “I believe I remember some of your work,” he said. I shot him finger guns from where I was sitting, braced against Sam. “How about that lap now, huh?” I asked, pushing up away from Sam. The shaggy haired hunter nodded, and quickly stood up, holding the slack end of my chain in one hand, and pulling me up with the other. I glanced up at him, and sent him a winning smile. “So chivalry isn’t dead. Thought it may have been when you held my own knife to my throat,” I said, half teasingly. Sam had the grace to wince half regretfully. 

“I won’t defend what I did. But it did get us the information we wanted,” he said, sticking to his guns. I shrugged, and responded. “Nobody’s perfect. Especially not PTSD’d up humans.”

Castiel, ever one for not correctly reading the room, cut in. “You could have been more cooperative, Trisha. Otherwise we would have not needed to take such… extreme measures.”

I looked at him indignantly. “Really. You’re going to play the cooperation card? On me? The chick you have, locked up in your dungeon, chained up, limiting my powers, that’s surrounded by men bigger, stronger, and more well-armed than me? On me?” I scoffed. I loved my uncle, if merely out of principal, but he and the Winchesters had a whole ‘high and mighty’ act that grated on me. My temper rose.

“Sure, Castiel,” I bit out his name like a curse, “I’m totally out of bounds, not being cooperative.” Red seeped into my vision. The light bulbs in the dungeon undeniably stuttered as I said ‘cooperative’ like I would throw a knife. 

Castiel had the gall to look frustrated by what I said, as Sam surveyed the lights suspiciously. “Jack,” Sam murmured. “Was that you, or...?” He trailed off. Jack shook his head slowly, “No, Sam, I don’t believe it was.”

I grinned predatorily, the tide of anger in me still rising. “You guys were so concerned with how dangerous a young Nephilim could be, since he didn’t know how powerful he was?” My blue eyes flared a brilliant, unnatural gold. “Imagine how dangerous an incredibly pissed off Nephilim is, especially when she’s had centuries to learn exactly how powerful she is.” 

I was standing a fair way away from Castiel and Sam, glaring at them. Jack was completely forgotten by me, although I instinctively knew he could take a fair amount of whatever I dished out. My chains vibrated. 

“You guys aren’t the only people who have tried to keep me restrained. I’ll admit, keeping me constantly cuffed to chains that are designed to drain my power was a smart move. But after a while… you have to let them cool off, otherwise, they shatter.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been a while. I'm getting through my first case of writer's block... it's fun. College is also fun, I have an F in a class already and class has only been going for 3 weeks... Hopefully the writer's block will be over soonish. Kudos and comments help me try and write anyway. Thanks for reading!


	10. Chapter 10

I shook the heavy chains expectantly. No dice. Fuck. Time to keep monologuing, I suppose.

Or not. Sam lunged for me in a full body tackle attempt that went sideways as I managed to snap my leg shackles and dart out of the way. Castiel, ever the warrior, managed to grab the trailing end of my ‘leash.’ I let out a scream of frustration, and ripped my wrists apart. The cuffs around my wrists shattered outwards. 

The remaining bonds on my body disintegrated, as did the lightbulbs within the room. Complete darkness, to Sam. To Castiel, Jack and I, it was merely a little dimmer than before, but the sudden change took them both a second to adjust.   
I felt my grace flowing freely, and reveled in it. I tried to ‘poof’ away, but no luck. The bunker’s warding must still be in place. ‘No matter,’ I thought to myself. ‘I can just make a run for it.’

In the moment’s pause Castiel and Jack took to acclimate themselves with the darkness, I wrenched open the door, hissing as my hands burned from coming into contact with warding etched into the door. However, I pushed past the pain, blood pumping as I ran on adrenaline and the rush of grace willing to be used. 

I rushed out, running through the halls, preparing for a fight as I pushed through a set of doors, instead ran into the middle of a library. Huh? Shit. No time to waste. Need to get out before I get stuck here, permanently. I tried to flex my grace, again, to fly to anywhere but this godforsaken place, but I was grounded. “Fuck!” I growled. Plan B. Plan B was still a shitty plan. Plan B was to run out of here. If I could find exactly where in the bunker the doors were. 

I heard running footsteps and shouting coming from where I came from. I used my grace to fling the doors shut and throw a bookcase over the entrance. It would only slow them down momentarily, with a pissed off angel and Nephilim in their ranks, but I would take any spare seconds I could get. 

I sprinted away from the doors leading to the dungeon, and burst through a set of doors on the opposite side of the library. And ran smack into one Dean Winchester, sipping a beer as he walked towards the library in a robe. 

My eyes flew open, as did his. He dropped his beer, and fumbled for the knife on his belt. I reacted reflexively, and ended up punching him in the chest so hard he took a few stumbling steps backwards. I sidestepped him as he leaned against the wall for support, and brushed his arm, send a wave of grace to heal any damage I may have done, and knock Dean out. I didn’t need another angry hunter on my tail. However, I also didn’t need Castiel, Sam, and Jack hunting me for revenge.

I could hear Sam yelling from the library now. Shit. I fled further down the corridor, where I had one of two doors to chose from. I flung the one of the left open, and all I could see were more doors, and a dead ending hallway. I hazarded a guess that the door I chose led to the dorms of the bunker. The other door, then. I ripped the other door open, a tad too forcefully as I tore it off its hinges. “Crap,” I muttered. 

However, a minorly lucky break, the broken door led onto the war room. On the far side of the war room, I saw a stairwell, with a door. And windows! I darted forward, and ran up the stairs. Behind me, I heard a clattering. “Trisha, stop!” yelled Sam. 

I flicked him off as I continued running up the stairs. “Sorry Sam, it’s time for me to blow this popsicle stand!” I said triumphantly. And my victory was immediately squashed. Castiel appeared on the landing, blocking the door, and frowned. “Trisha, stop,” he said, and an angel blade dropped from his sleeve. 

“Castiel, let me leave,” I warned, glaring at him. He shook his head gravely, and passed his hand over the door, highlighting layers upon layers of warding on the door, windows, and all other forms of exit. 

He raised his angel blade warningly, towards my throat. “I am afraid I cannot, child,” Cas said, looking dour as I’ve ever seen him. “You know I’m hundreds of years old, right?” I bit out. “I’m as much of a child as you are, I’ve just aged better.” I heard someone walk slowly up the stairs, but I didn’t dare take my eyes off of Castiel. The tread sounded suspiciously like Sam’s. 

I glanced quickly behind me. It was Sam, holding more restraints, cautiously stalking up the stairwell. He took up the majority of it, and I didn’t want to give them cause to harm me anymore than they thought they already had. And I knew instinctually that if I turned my back on my uncle he might just end me then and there.

I slowly backed away from Castiel, towards the railing of the stairs. I sent out a push of energy, and Sam and Cas staggered back. I vaulted over the railing, and sprinted back towards the back halls of the bunker. Jack tried to intercept me, and I graced a chair careening into him. He let out a pained noise, and I winced while running. The door I was headed for, an open one leading to hallways unknown, slammed shut. “Trisha, stop,” said Cas forcefully. My eyes slid over the other exits of the room, all also closed and no doubt locked, save the door I had broken. That door had hunters crowding behind it, angel blades being brandished, although they seemed unwilling to join me in the warroom. 

I had no desire to go through them- I could, potentially, but not without harming them, or being harmed myself. 

I turned on my heel, and ran into Castiel’s chest. I backpedaled quickly, and my back ran into the knob of a door. My eyes trained on him, I felt desperately for the doorknob. When I came into contact with it, my hand burned. I hissed, but still tried to wrench it open. No such luck. Castiel and Jack both had grace pressed against it, preventing me from being able to open it. I sagged against the door. 

My adrenaline was slowly leaving my system, and I just felt exhausted. My head dropped. “If you’re going to kill me, just do it already,” I told Cas in one last act of defiance. I prayed silently to my father, and waited for Castiel’s blade to sink into my check.   
However, I wasn’t that fortunate. I heard Castiel curtly reply, “No.” Something cold snapped around my neck, and a bag was dropped over my head, again. 

I let out a shout of protest, and started struggling with a returned vengeance. However, strong hands picked me up, and I was thrown over someone’s shoulder. I tried to use my grace, but once again, I couldn’t. I suspected it was the damn collar around my neck. 

I felt something press against my forehead, and I slipped into unconsciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Longest I've been since updating since I posted this- sorry!! Hope you enjoy- feel free to leave (kind) feedback!


	11. Chapter 11

Sam felt Trisha’s body slump, and he let out a heaving sigh. “Thanks, Cas,” he said dejectedly. He carried her small form back to the dungeon, and instead of chaining her to the chair again, he attached her to the corner of the drab room. He gently took off the hood, and left her curled up on the floor, with lots of slack in the chain connected to the collar around her neck. She looked upset, even unconscious. Sam frowned. He left the dungeon, and took a quick visit to one of the store rooms in the bunker. He grabbed a blanket and pillow, and returned to the room. Trisha was still unconscious. He curled her closer to the wall, slipped the pillow under her head, and tucked the blanket around her. 

Sam quietly cleaned up the broken glass and shattered chains, and replaced the lightbulbs. He left one on, and silently left the room. The locks of the door were engaged, this time. 

He slowly walked into the common room, where Dean was nursing something strong, likely whiskey. He looked up at Sam when he entered the room. “How’s our runaway angel?” Dean asked with a bitter tone in his voice. 

“She’s resting, for now. I think she’ll be out for a while.” Sam answered. “I should hope so,” Dean muttered into his drink. “She threw me like a damn rag doll.” Sam frowned. “She healed you, though. You’re only one she hurt, and she fixed you right up.”   
Dean Winchester huffed. “She tried to bust out of here like a bat out of hell, Sam. She’s gonna try again. Next time someone might not be so lucky. We need to power her down, even more.” 

“I really don’t that’s the way to go, Dean. I think we should make her our ally, not our enemy. She can be useful,” Sam said, sounding convinced. 

Dean shook his head. “No, man, it’s bad enough that we have Jack here, at least he’s still figuring everything out and we can help influence him so that he doesn’t go ballistic like Trisha did. We don’t need some pissed off half angel whose opinions are already made.” He sighed. “We need to get rid of her. Whether that means ganking her or dropping her off somewhere without her powers, I don’t know.”

Castiel walked into the room and announced to the Winchester boys, “Jack is in his room, for now. Some of the other hunters are fixing the furniture Trisha broke. Is she still unconscious?”

Sam looked at Cas. “She is, for now. I expect we’ll have a truly pissed guest when she wakes up, though.” Cas nodded thoughtfully. “I suspect so.”

OOOOOOOOO

I drifted awake slowly. I had something soft under my head, and something definitely not chain-like wrapped tightly around my body. The ground beneath me was hard and a bit damp. There was a strange pressure around my neck. The recent events came to the forefront of my mind. I struggled with the thing wrapped around me for a second before throwing it off me, and then I bolted upright. I was in the dungeon again, but not chained to the chair. Ignoring the weird, heavy feeling around my throat, I sprinted for the door.

I made it about halfway across the room before I couldn’t run any farther, and I was yanked back. I windmilled impressively for a moment, and then fell straight on my ass. I recovered for a second, and then I whipped around angrily. And saw the chain connected to the wall, that led to the collar around my neck. 

‘They collared me?’ I thought furiously. ‘Those assholes!’ I surveyed the room, for anything I could use to take my anger out on.

All of the furniture had been taken out of the room, and the broken lightbulbs from my fit of anger had been removed as well. It was just me, a couple light fixtures, far enough way that I didn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell to reach them, and the pillow and blanket someone had given me when I was knocked out. 

I frowned, and stood up. That was a nice change, though. I was chained to the wall like a naughty dog on a lead, but I could walk around and stretch as I pleased. I turned around, to see how securely I was restrained. 

Unfortunately, the Winchesters knew what they were doing when it came to restraining celestial wavelengths of intent. The chain was connected to a large plate of metal on the wall, drilled in with many spikes. I went to go touch the plate and my chain, and the metal glowed warningly. I experimentally touched the metal, and it glowed brighter. I gripped my chain, and it burned my hand, flaring bright with more Enochian sigils. 

I instantly dropped it. Those wards fucking hurt. “Ouch,” I hissed. I kicked the wall petulantly, and sat in the corner of the room. 

I spied where I had abandoned the blanket and pillow. I grabbed the blanket, spreading it out beneath where I was going to sit, and leaned the pillow against the wall. I settled in. Now to wait on the asshole Winchesters and clan to come and resume my torture. 

I didn’t have long to wait. Castiel and Bobby opened the door not soon after I had set up my little corner. They didn’t come in much farther than the door, which was very pointedly locked behind them. They looked at me expectantly. I stared back at them, directing a glare to the both of them, although the majority of my silent wrath was directed at my asshole uncle. If they wanted to talk, they would have to start the conversation. 

After five minutes of silence, Bobby sighed. “Heard you tried to break out, girl.” I nodded. “And Cas here felt you try and mess with your restraints there.” I nodded again, not denying anything. “You only hurt our property, and Dean.” I raised my eyebrow at him, and nodded my head a third time, slowly, like the grizzled hunter was stupid. “You healed Dean, though, and in the heat of your escape, too.” He paused to give me the opportunity to say something, and when I didn’t reply, he pressed on with a “Why?”

“Why?” I asked back, cuttingly. “Why? Maybe because, like I’ve been telling you thick, denim coated nightmares, I want to help you!” 

Bobby merely raised his eyes at me. “Then why don’t you actually help us?” It was an aggressive question, designed to get a rise out of me. It worked. A tide of red fury rose within me, and the lights flickered. 

Bobby and Cas noticed, and glanced around the room quickly, before Bobby took a small step backward, and Castiel moved in front of him protectively. 

“Granddad, y’all are stupid. I. Can’t. Help. You. Tied up like this!” I shouted, frustrated to all hell. Castiel rumbled warningly. I stood up, and stalked towards them as far as my damn chain would let me. I pointed at them accusingly. 

“From the jump, I’ve been nonviolent. From the start, I’ve admitted to wanting to help you. But at this point, I think you stupid, stupid hunters are beyond the point of help. Besides, who else ties up and tortures a potential ally? And other than the fact that you haven’t given me the opportunity to help you idiots, is because you’ve locked up my grace!”

The lightbulb closest to me shattered. Castiel took a halting step forward. “Trisha,” he grated. “Stop this, now.” 

I laughed, a little maniacally. “You guys are so eager to paint me as a villain. Why? Because you know, not even all that deep down, you’re the ones in the wrong?” And with that, my collar vanished. I blinked in surprise, and flexed my wings experimentally. I was completely free, even my wings. 

I grinned predatorily, and snapped behind them. “Night night, boys,” I said, venom in my voice. 

I touched them on the back of their heads, and they crumpled in front of me. I searched the bunker using my grace, and quickly located my knife. I really didn’t need them having one of the only things that could kill me, given that Dean was already bent on my destruction. I summoned it to me, and quickly flew away from the damned bunker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still getting the hang of college, and I have yet to decide on an update schedule. Let me know what you think!


	12. Chapter 12

Dean sat in the library, waiting on Bobby and Cas to come back. They had been in there for upwards of an hour. Maybe they finally managed to get Trisha to talk to them. ‘Or maybe she killed them,’ he thought, and frowned to himself. It wouldn’t be a bad idea to check on them. He walked briskly towards the dungeon. 

A step away from the door, Dean paused. The door was still closed, and the locks were still engaged. Maybe they were fine? Dean knocked on the door loudly. “Bobby? Cas?” His gruff voice garnered no response. Dean knocked harder, and called to them again. Still no answer. 

Dean quickly undid all of the locks and flung the dungeon door open. He quickly scanned the room, and his eyes fell to his family’s crumpled forms. “Shit!” he exclaimed, and rushed to them. He knelt worriedly beside them, and frantically searched for a pulse on both of them. Both of them still had strong pulses, and Dean let out a sob of relief. 

“Bobby? Cas?” He asked desperately, shaking them both. They remained unconscious, and he choked on his tears. 

He checked them for wounds, and luckily found none. He sent up a quick prayer of thanks, and then rolled them into more comfortable positions. He whipped out his phone, and dialed Sam. Sam picked up with a snort. “Dean, we’re in the same building.”  
“Bobby and Cas are down,” Dean ground out, relief melting into anger. “Trisha’s gone.”

Sam let out an astonished shout, and bit out a “I’ll be right there,” and then the line went dead. Sam rushed through the hallways, and Jack intercepted him. “Sam,” he started. “Trisha’s gone. Bobby and Cas are down. Let’s go!” interrupted Sam. Jack’s eyes widened in dismay, and followed after Sam quickly. 

Sam and Jack burst into the dungeon, and Dean looked worriedly up to them. “They’re alive, but they’re not waking up. I think she mojo’d them.”

Jack knelt beside Dean, between the two asleep bodies. He gently pressed his pointer fingers onto their foreheads. “I could wake them up right now, but it would be better if we moved them or made them comfortable here, until they woke up on their own.” Dean let out a small, pained noise. “How long might that take?” He demanded. 

Jack shrugged. “I do not know. But they are unharmed. Trisha merely rendered them unconscious.” Dean huffed. “’Merely.’ When I get my hands on her again, I’ll rip her lungs out!”

Jack recoiled a little, and eyed Dean warily. “And how the hell did she escape?” Dean continued, working himself into a lather. “Cas designed those chains. And powered down she shouldn’t have been able to bust out on her own. She had help, I’m sure of it.”  
Jack glanced away, a little guiltily, but Dean was busy looking indignantly at Sam, who had his eyes trained on his brother.

Sam sighed. “Dean, I’m not sure it matters anymore. She’s gone, and Bobby and Cas are gonna be fine.”

Dean jerked his head up. “What about her knife?” Sam looked shocked. “I completely forgot about it. I’ll go check- or do you want to move them?”

His brother waved his dismissively. “Go see if we still have the knife. And see if you can update the warding again, in case she comes back before Cas wakes up.” Sam nodded affirmative and jogged off. Dean turned his attention to the young Nephilim, who had his attention on Cas and Bobby. “Go get some pillows, yea?” Jack got up and silently padded off. 

After it was just him in the room, among the shattered glass, broken chains, and crumpled forms of his angel and adopted dad, he buried his head in his hands. 

OOOOOOOOOOOO  
I stood on the edge of a cliff which hung over the rocky shore. I was relatively certain I was in modern day Sweden. The waves crashed against the walls of the fjord, and I smiled. I relished the wind blowing sharp cold air, tousling my hair and pinking my cheeks, enjoying the utter feeling of freedom the wind gifted me. I stood in the direct sunlight, feeling entirely like a lazy cat in a sunbeam. My hands fell straight beside me, and my knife was tucked in my waistband. 

I was aware of someone near me, but I ignored the figure standing a few feet away from me, until he spoke. “Trisha,” my father said softly.

I turned to face him. “Dad,” I said, my voice breaking. He snapped himself right next to me, and held me in his arms as my proverbial floodgates broke, and I sobbed into his chest. He tucked my head under his chin, and hummed soothingly as I released all of the frustration, anger, and fear from the last 6 or so days. 

Slowly my tears stopped, and I looked up to him. “Dad, that fucking sucked.”

He chuckled gently, a little brokenly, tears welling in his eyes but not spilling. “I know it did, kiddo. I’m so sorry. I know the Winchesters were asses, and I shouldn’t have sent you in there without backup.” He moved back to look at me in the face. “You look like shit, honey. Let’s get you cleaned up. And remember, kiddo, on this side of the pond, rolling with me, you’re rolling with the Trickster.”

I rolled my eyes. “Dad, your cover has been blown for a couple years now.” Gabriel smirked, and looked fondly down at me. “Good to keep up appearances, fruit of my loins.” 

I pulled a face, “Dude, that’s gross.” “It’s true,” Dad sing-songed, and sauntered away from me. I rolled my eyes, a common happening around my father, and trudged after him. 

“Why are we walking, again?” I asked as we hiked away from the fjord, about 10 minutes into our walk. 

“It builds character,” Gabriel responded. “I have centuries worth of character,” I retorted. “Next excuse as to why we’re not there already?” Gabriel sighed. “I had a run in with the Winchesters a while back, and pretended to be dead.” 

“I remember,” I said flatly, waiting for my father to continue to speak. 

“Well, after that, some major dickweed named Asmodeus snapped me up & drained me of a lot of my grace. Then, the Winchesters ripped a hole in the universe and one of your uncles from an alternate reality stabbed me.” I winced. “Yea, I think I felt that.” My dad gave me an empty smile. “Yea, that would happen. Your grace and mine are made of the same stuff. You’re like… a cutting of a plant. I snipped off a bit of my grace when I had you, and you grew, like an offshoot of me. But you and I are still connected, a bit.” He paused, his expression sobering. “You’re actually the reason I’m still alive.” 

I stopped in my tracks. “I felt a… siphoning, a couple months ago. That was you?” 

“Either me or Ass-modeus,” my father replied. I shuddered a little. “I’d much rather it be you than that dickweed.”

“Dead dickweed. I killed him.” He said shortly. I smiled softly. “Good.”

Gabe stayed silent. “You know, dad, if you want me to zap us someplace, I can manage it.”

“Nah, you little sprig of me. Cas and the Winchesters are probably on the lookout for archangel level mojo. So, we walk.” He said cheerily. I groaned internally, but followed after him anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I posted the first chapter of this story I had ~22k, now I have ~37k. Woo! Thanks for all the kudos y'all! You're the reasons why you get another chapter this morning. Still deciding on an update schedule, still unbeta'd.


	13. Chapter 13

Cas woke up with a grunt. Hands were automatically on him. Green eyes looked at him intently. “Cas? You ok?” Dean asked urgently. Cas blinked slowly. “Yes…” he replied slowly. “Trisha… she…” Cas said hesitantly. Dean shook his head. “Forget her, Cas. Are you hurt?” 

Castiel nodded. “Was anyone hurt?” Dean gestured to Bobby’s unconscious form. “She knocked you and Bobby out cold. You’ve been out for two hours. Bobby still hasn’t woken up.” Cas looked at Bobby’s still body. “I can wake him up, if you want.” Dean shook his head. “Only if you can do it without hurting him. Jack said it would be best if he just rested.”

Castiel pressed his finger against Bobby’s temple. “Jack is correct. He has not been harmed, but he is sleep deprived. I can move him to his bunk,” Castiel said, already summoning up the power to do it. “If you’re up to it, Cas. Don’t strain yourself, or anything,” Dean replied a little desperately.

Cas gave Dean a gummy smile. “I will not strain myself, as you say.” He gently grabbed Bobby’s wrist, and moved the two of them to Bobby’s bunk. It was cluttered, but with few personal items, only with a few things taken from the alternate universe. The rest of the stuff littering the room were hunter necessities- tomes, phones, and weapons. Castiel took off Bobby’s cap, and placed it on the side table. He summoned a water bottle, and placed it next to Bobby’s hat. 

Castiel blinked, and was back at Dean’s side. “Hello, Dean.”

OOOOOOOOO

My dad was flopped on the plush couch without ceremony, groaning. “My feet are so sore,” he muttered. “I offered to snap us somewhere, but no, we had to ‘build character’ and walk it to this place. So deal, you big baby,” I said, resting on a nearby, similarly plush chair. 

Gabe rolled over dramatically, and glared at me playfully. “You’re the big baby. I’m a cosmic entity hundreds of thousands of years old.” I cocked my eyebrow and retorted with an easy grin. “And I’m a half cosmic entity a couple hundred years old. Your point?” My dad sighed deeply, looking like he regretted a lot of decisions. “Why did I have kids again?” He asked dramatically. I threw a book at him from where I sat. It landed on his hip, and he let out a fake pained noise. “You either wanted to experience the joys of fatherhood or you forgot to wrap it and got unlucky.”

“Definitely the second one. Joys of fatherhood are a little overrated,” he teased. “Hey!” I exclaimed, mock offended, and threw another book at him. “Out of all ‘my’ kids, though, you’re definitely the best,” he drawled. “I’m the only real kid you have, Gabe. Unless I have a secret sib floating around?” I countered. 

He sighed. “Nah, I would know. I just have Loki’s kids, who, as you know, are not actually mine, but occasionally act like it, attempted patricide and all, and you.” 

“Old man, you almost make it sound like you like me,” I smiled. His amber eyes sparkled, more than a little mischievously. “Don’t be so sure, brat.” I summoned small pebbles to throw at him. His hands flew up, “Hey, hey, truce. Quit throwing things.”  
“So,” my dad said, more somber now, “did those guys rough you up too much?” 

I averted my eyes. “They have major trust issues. Anyone they don’t know is a threat, and by granddad was I a threat. All of them, even Uncle Cas, were a fan of threatening me with my knife. Other than Jack, although I think that was lack of exposure than anything else.” I sighed. “He seems like a sweet kid, from what I can tell. And I’m down for helping the kid learn how to not torch the earth, especially since his dad is a supporter of a crispy earth. But them tying me up? Treating me like I’m not even worthy of rights? Not down with that.” Dad sighed. “Yea, I understand you loud and clear, kid.” ‘More than you know,’ he thought to himself. 

I looked down, willing a book to solidify in my hands, for reading this time, and caught a glimpse of my clothes. They were stiff, and had spots of blood and oil stained sporadically through them. I had dirt caked under my nails, and I was suddenly very aware of how nasty my hair felt. The grime from the basement and the long trek to this vaguely familiar house didn’t help how fresh I felt, either.

“I’m going to shower. Don’t run off on me, or fake your death again, ok?” I said, glancing nervously, almost guiltily over to where my father lay.

He looked at me with soft eyes. “I won’t leave, kiddo.” I nodded, and headed towards the bathroom. 

OOOOOOOOOOO

Jack stood in the empty dungeon. He felt the power in the room slowly dissipating. It was strange- a blend of his, Trisha’s, and one other being. Whoever the being was, they were incredibly strong. Jack’s power, combined with Trisha’s, had broken the collar his fathers had put on her cousin. He wanted his family to talk, not fight, but he had seen the resentment in Trisha festering. 

But he had only assisted in freeing her grace- another being entirely had scrubbed all of the angel-related sigils from the bunker. Worry ran through his mind. He would have to tell his fathers that the angel wards were completely gone, if Castiel hadn’t already noticed it missing. Jack winced. His uncle would likely be with the Winchesters, and they wouldn’t be pleased to learn that. 

Jack knew, though, that getting the defensive wards back up was crucial to their safety. The young Nephilim resigned himself to his fate. He located his family within the bunker quickly, and flew to them.

OOOOOOOOOO

The mirror of the bathroom was fogged with steam. I stepped out of the shower and let out a sigh of relief. I was finally clean. I wrapped a warm towel around me, and wrung out my hair. I snapped the mirror clear, and looked at myself. Even post shower, I looked like shit. I had deep, dark bags under my eyes, and a new, thin scar along my neck. My dark, reddish blonde hair was tangled, and matted in certain places. 

I frowned, and snapped my fingers. Instantly, it was dry, untangled and straightened. I dressed myself slowly, slipping on an oversized shirt and soft sleep shorts. I sent a glance to the clothes I had discarded, still dirty from my time in the bunker. I clicked my fingers again, and they were clean, folded, in a different part of the house we were staying in. 

I strolled into the kitchen where my father was making breakfast for lunch. It smelled divine. I smiled. “Really, pops? Pancakes?” He turned to me and grinned. “Comfort food, kiddo! Gotta load up on the carbs somehow.” “Carbs are bad for you, dad.”

He sobered a little. “Is it so bad I wanna make us some food?” My smile fell from my face a little, and I shook my head, regretting my harsh words. I pulled down plates, and snapped us some juice. Gabe slid the pancakes onto our plates, and we sat down to lunch. The pancakes were loaded high and full on sugar. We ate in silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, I think I've decided on a (tentative) update schedule. Updates every Wednesday, and on Sundays if I'm feeling like it. This update isn't super action heavy, and from here on things will be a little more civil between everyone (for the most part). Let me know what you think!!


	14. Chapter 14

Sam, Cas, Bobby and Jack sat around the war table, as Dean paced around the room. “I don’t think we should go after her, Dean. That’s not the right play. We need to get our warding back up, go on the defensive for a while, in case she comes back with a vengeance,” Sam argued. 

Dean slammed his hand into a doorframe angrily. “Why can’t we do both, Sam?” Jack quietly sat up straighter in his chair. “I think I should try to find her by myself.”

“No!” All of the older men chorused. Jack winced, but pressed on. “I can track her through the wards, now that I’m familiar with her grace. She keeps saying doesn’t want to hurt me, and I believe her. She would’ve done so already, if she was going to.”  
Cas shook his head firmly. “When I flew to your aid, she was standing above you, going for the angel blade you summoned. You were unarmed and on the ground. You cannot defend yourself against her alone. I will come with you.”

Dean looked horrified, and Sam frowned. “No, Cas, you’re not going anywhere, and neither are you, Jack. Either we do this, together, as a family, or we don’t do this at all,” Dean said passionately. Jack cocked his head at the human portion of his family. “Castiel and I can travel faster alone. And you were not nice to her, I do not think Trisha would like the people who held her and treated her badly coming after her.”

Bobby cut in. “You boys aren’t going anywhere until we have a plan. You can’t go into something like this half assed and half cocked and expect it to go well.” Jack paused. “Bobby has a point, Jack. We need a plan before we go after her,” Sam said firmly.

Jack would’ve pouted, if that’s something that Nephilim did. “Yes, Sam,” Jack said sullenly. Jack understood why his family was arguing for waiting, but he had a burning curiosity regarding his cousin. For now, though, he decided to follow their lead. There was always time to disobey them later.

OOOOOOOOO

“So, kiddo, why the name change?” My dad asked me, looking at me curiously. I sighed, shifting in my seat, full on carbs and finally semi-content with my situation. I set the book I was reading to the side. “Pálheiður isn’t exactly… modern, dad. In Sweden and the other freezing cold countries I can get away with it, but in America? England? Not gonna fly, pops. That means I get a name transplant.” 

He nodded thoughtfully, and then thought of something that visibly bothered something. It took him a couple seconds to summon up the courage to ask, “And it had nothing to do with the fact that Pálheiður was Loki’s daughter?” 

I winced, and answered him. “Honestly? A little. But also, dad, some girl hanging out in the same village for centuries is kinda… attention grabbing. And remember, we agreed that I should stay under the radar.” Gabe nodded, looking upset with himself. “Yea. But we agreed to a lot of stuff.”

I quirked an eye at him, my full attention now on him. “We did. And all of that was your idea.” My dad looked away, uncomfortable. My father never was particularly talented at talking about his feelings and mistakes. “I remember. Pá, I’m sorry,” he said quietly, avoiding eye contact with me. 

I shrugged, and replied, blasé as a front, as usual, “The past is the past, dad. You were under pressure. Don’t worry, I’m not like, scarred for my unusually long life.” 

“Are you sure? I wasn’t the greatest dad back then, kid. I said a lot of things… did a lot of things…”

I stood up and walked out of the room. I didn’t want to hear his self-pity session, especially since I had mainly forgiven him. Angry with both my father and myself, I let myself fall into old memories. 

Growing up was hard, admittedly. I was born in the mid-16th century. I lived through the dark ages, famines, wars, and witch hunts. I remember when creatures of all sorts ran much more wild. Even though my father had warded me, some of the more powerful monsters- the Alphas, the Knights, occasionally caught wind of me. I would pray to my father, and he would come rescue me, grudgingly. Very grudgingly. Often he showed up wasted. One memorable time he showed up with his most recent… ‘sacrifice,’ and promptly after saving me and decimating the opposing forces resumed the… ‘tribute.’ 

After a run in with some nasties around the early 19th century, my father made me a deal. I would have full access to my powers, and if I was ever in a situation that required being saved, he would not be the one to save me. I agreed- as a way to protect me, my father had put a lock on my powers- the less power I used, I had, the more human I would seem. But the less powerful I was, the more likely I was vulnerable to attacks when people and creatures did catch on to what, to who I was.

So we shook on it, and then I didn’t see my father until a little more than a century later. 

He was partying it up as a minor god, orgies and pranks and other deities. I, on the other hand, travelled frequently. I aged slowly- enough for people to notice that Pá looked considerably younger than her husband, even though they had been the same age when they married. How odd. And, hey, her best friend was aging quickly, no? 

Hunters in the earlier centuries were not as kind as the ones today, and were much more willing to kill first, and never ask questions. I eventually learned how to change my face, and never stayed in one place for more than a decade, so the bad things of the world couldn’t catch up as easily. 

I wanted to stay in places for longer. I had lives, families, that I had to leave behind. I regretted the hearts I broke, the children I left. But I was drawn to humanity, how they lived, intense, passionate. I had the joy of raising my own children, living with my spouses. Fortunately, most of my spouses understood that I had to leave, but my children, those of whom survived the perils of the world pre-industrial revolution, never did. They were all sweethearts, and whilst they and their children and their children grew up and lived, I visited them. Secretly, in the night, or with a disguise in passing, during the day. It broke my heart, especially to see my children grow up without one or both of their parents, but for their safety it had to be done. 

Most of them lived happy, simple lives. I still had a few ancestors around, and I sometimes checked in on them. They didn’t know any of my faces, and often an accidental run-in on the street was enough to satisfy my curiosity. 

My father had tried that once with me, with a different face. I was visiting my home village, now considerably more advanced than when I had first lived there. It was a bittersweet practice, I know, but I tried to care for the ancestors of my hometown. 

I had stopped for hot chocolate, thanking the many-times great granddaughter of mine for the cup. She smiled, and I stepped out of the line, only to turn into someone, and spilled my cup. “Oh, I’m sorry!” I apologized, and after furiously dabbing away at the chocolate stains on my coat, I looked up at him. His eyes twinkled, and he said quite merrily, “You’re quite alright, child.” My eyes widened, and then narrowed as I recognized him. His face was foreign to me, but the twinkle in his eye and the aura of his grace were incredibly familiar. 

I shook myself out of the memory, and glanced back to where my father sat on the couch. I sighed and walked out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts??


	15. Chapter 15

Jack stood outside, enjoying the crisp wind in contrast to the stuffy air of the bunker. He heard leaves crunch behind him, as someone approached. He glanced behind him, and smiled softly. He greeted Sam with a quiet, “Hello.” 

Sam stepped next to Jack, and greeted the Nephilim boy with a firm clap on the back. “Hey, Jack. You doing ok?”

Jack thought pensively for a moment. “I suppose so. Have we found any leads on Trisha?”

Sam shook his head regretfully. “No,” he sighed deeply. “She’s heavily warded, and Cas is having issues tracking her.”

“I am more powerful than Castiel. I could track her, my grace knows hers,” Jack wheedled, looking at Sam with his best approximation of puppy dog eyes. Sam frowned, relatively immune to Jack’s efforts. “Do you even know how, Jack?” Sam questioned him.  
Jack looked away. “I am a… quick learner. I am sure I could accomplish it.”

“Jack,” Sam started indignantly. Jack glared at him. “I am not incompetent, Sam. I am not a child and I am more powerful than you think.” His eyes flashed a brief, dangerous yellow. 

Sam put up his hands in a defensive gesture. “Jack, I know you are,” He said placatingly. “But we don’t know how powerful Trisha is. She’s a lot older than you, and even if you guys have the same amount of juice she has centuries of practice on you.”   
That thought gave Jack momentary pause. “But she does not want to hurt me.”

Sam groaned internally. This conversation was turning into the ones they had previously- going in circles with Jack never quite grasping Sam and Dean’s concerns. 

However, before Sam had an opportunity to try to explain his concerns again, a scrap of paper materialized in Jack’s lap. In slanted writing, it read ‘Appalachian mountains, Mt. Mitchell. 8am EST. Only you, cuz. Be there or be square. ~ T’ Sam jumped, and looked around a little wildly, his hand resting on the knife on his hip. 

Jack peered at the paper suspiciously, but he found no fault with it, other than the fact no one near him had given it to him. A grin slowly grew across his face. “I suppose we no longer have to look for her,” Jack said triumphantly. 

Sam took the paper from Jack, and frowned. “We can’t know that this is from Trisha.”

Jack cocked his head. “It is from T. The only T we know is Trisha, and she wants to talk to me.” Sam sighed. He was glad the Nephilim was still innocent, not burned and cynical of the world, but his naivete would eventually land Jack in trouble. 

Sam, instead of trying to explain this to the boy, merely shrugged. “Let’s bring this to Cas and Bobby, and talk about this, alright?” 

Jack nodded enthusiastically. Finally, they were getting somewhere.

OOOOOOOOOO

I stood outside, holding the rest of the notebook in one hand, and holding the pen I was chewing on in the other. There were many things on my mind, the anxiety of dealing with the Winchesters the primary focus. 

Gabe came and joined me outside, and we stood in silence for a few moments. “You’re going to try and convince the Lose-chesters that you’re not evil incarnate again?” He asked, trying and failing to not to appear worried.

“Yea,” I replied. “More Jack than the others, though. He’s the one Granddad wants me to focus on.” Gabe nodded, sucking on a lollipop that had appeared from nowhere. “What I don’t understand is why the big man upstairs can’t take a break from family bonding time and teach Jack himself. That’s what he did with me,” I huffed, annoyed.

My dad shrugged. “Dad never did well with sticking around. The big G o-d has always been big on leaving his kids and creations to their own devices. And if they eat each other or roast the planet, that’s on them.”

I rolled my eyes. Gabriel caught my eye, seriously. “You were a special case, kid. I can count on one hand how many times dad has come back to handle something. You were a first, and he was always a fan helping out the firsts of… whatever. But he’s left the building, and like it was with my older brothers, it’s up to the oldest to teach the youngins.”

I groaned. “But how? Jack wants to talk to me, but I think that the entourage he has will go after me again.” I paused, thinking. “And, I don’t know how to teach him this! If I teach him wrong he can wreck the freakin’ planet!”

Gabe just shrugged again, and looked away. “Think about how I taught you, before Chuck stepped in. Think about how you taught your kids.”

I looked at him indignantly. “My kids didn’t have powers! I very intentionally did not give them power, so they wouldn’t have to have the same intervention I did.” I paused for a moment, and said, much quieter, “so they wouldn’t have to go through the shit I did.”

Dad quirked his eyebrow at me, eyes gentle and searching. “You sure bout that, sweetheart?” 

I glared at him, slightly offended. “Don’t even joke about that. I didn’t want them to have to deal with that stuff. I checked on them!”

“Latent grace, kid. I checked on them too. They didn’t have a lot- just enough where they healed a little bit faster, had better reflexes, that sort of stuff. Nothing big, nothing attention grabbing,” he said reassuringly. 

I frowned, but remembered I had a daughter, Áine, who had gorgeous hazel eyes, which would appear more gold whenever she grew upset. Her skinned knees and blisters and other small wounds one gets from childhood always healed quickly, for a human. She was the fastest child in the village- beneficial for her, as she was a little hellion. A bittersweet smile grew on my face. She was my first daughter, and we had named her for the delight and pleasure my then husband thought she would bring us. 

I shook myself out of my memories. That was centuries ago, when I still allowed myself a family. Anymore, I grew fond of humans, but never allowed myself to find a true place among them. Leaving them, or them leaving me, hurt too much. 

Even loving my father had its issues. Angels, even archangels in love with humanity, while not unfamiliar to familial love, have not been used to it for millennia, and struggled with the idea of loyalty out of love. 

My father was flaky, and irresponsible, and often did too little too late. However, he still did care, and he loved me, I knew that. He just didn’t know how to handle it, or how to raise a kid, so he left. Frequently. “Dad,” I said hesitantly, “if you had the opportunity to get away from here, leave everyone, would you?” 

Gabe didn’t look at me, guilt rolling off of him in waves. I continued, “If you could leave this… me?”

He stayed silent. I sighed, disappointed but not all that surprised, and walked back inside. I knew that running, or in this case, walking, from my problems wouldn’t fix them. 

I walked past the kitchen, where Gabe had left me lunch, and into ‘my’ room. I locked the door behind me, and waited for 8am EST to arrive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's about halfway through my first semester, and my writing has slowed as my workload has picked up. I think I'll keep updating once/twice a week, depending on how I feel. Anyway, tell me what you think! I'm always open to constructive criticism. Happy Wednesday, y'all!


	16. Chapter 16

“How the hell are we going to get there by 8am?” Dean demanded, brandishing the note, and pacing the floor of the library. 

Jack and Castiel exchanged a look. Castiel tipped his head meaningfully at Jack, and Jack’s eyes widened. He shook his head minutely, but still got across how much he did not want to be the one to tell Dean how they could get across the country on time. Castiel’s shoulders slumped, disappointed but not entirely surprised, and he took a hesitant step forward. 

“Dean,” he said, painstakingly slowly, “Jack and I can get there within a blink of an eye.” Dean shook his head vigorously. 

“No,” Dean said vehemently. “Me and Sam are coming with.”

Sam looked a little taken aback, not really wanting to be a part of this conversation, but didn’t argue with his brother. He knew it would be pointless to argue, and he would like his two friends to have some back up- as helpful as human backup could be. 

“Dean,” Cas started, “We can fly people with us. But I think one of you should stay behind.” He paused, with a soulful look at Dean. “Perhaps… since you are uncomfortable with flying…” Castiel trailed off, mindful of the glare the hunter was sending his way.   
“No, Cas, I’m not holding down the fort!” Dean bit out. 

Bobby rolled his eyes. “Boy, one of you should. And since the little angel-ess wants to talk, and you want to shoot first and ask questions later, you should stay here. Help us if we need anything.” Bobby gestured to the couple other alternate-universe hunters in the library, who all looked like they were regretting being there. They muttered among themselves that they really needed to move out, so they wouldn’t be stuck in the cross hairs of weird Winchester arguments. 

Dean scowled. “I think I’m allowed to not trust some kid that shows up at our doorstep, claiming she can help us, claiming she’s the kid of some douche-wad that’s dicked us over one too many times, and then busts out of here like some bat out of hell when she doesn’t like our questions.”

Bobby raised an eyebrow, not entirely trusting of Trisha either but definitely thinking Dean was being too harsh. “And you think that it’s your questions, not your method? Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, boy. She got out, yeah, but no one got hurt. She says she wants to help us, and we need all the help we can get.”

“Dean,” Sam said, hesistant. “You’re getting… intense again. You should stay here, do research on her, see if you can muster anything up on her.” 

Dean huffed and crossed his arms. “Fine,” he growled. “But if this bites us in the ass, it’s on you.”

Sam winced a little, but nodded his assent. The tension in the room eased a little, but didn’t dissipate. 

Dean tried to leave the room, to go hide in his room, drink away his problems and ignore his emotions, but Castiel laid a hand on Dean’s forearm. “Dean,” Castiel said, voice gravelly, “We are concerned for you. You should not run away from your issues.” Dean scowled at Cas, eyes bright with barely concealed emotions. “I’m not running from nothin,’ Cas.” Dean ripped his arm from Cas’ grasp and stormed off to the depths of the bunker. His angel stared after him for a second, before turning to look at the remainder of the hunter clan. 

Sam pulled a face at his brother’s dramatics, but let Dean go without comment. He searched Castiel’s face for a second, before looking to Jack and Bobby. They both seem mildly worried, but knew that chasing after Dean at this moment would not end well.   
“So,” Sam said, to try and break the silence in the room, “what’s the plan?”


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in a day! Let me know what you think!

The harsh shrilling of my alarm went off. I clicked it off with a push of my grace and groaned. Sleeping on a bed was a luxury I had before taken for granted. I scoffed to myself. The twenty first century had make me weak. 

But no matter, I thought to myself. I needed to get up and prepare myself to meet my cousin. And handle his self-assigned protectors, of course, because they couldn’t stand to let my small cuz go out and be by himself, near me, someone who was an unknown, some random chick with random desires. 

I groaned, dreading dealing with Jack’s entourage already. Castiel would be quietly ornery, Sam would try to act all sympathetic but end up trying to back me into a corner nonetheless, and Dean? I shuddered. If they brought Dean, and I prayed to Granddad they wouldn’t, he would be hell bent on seeing me in the ground.

I sat up and rolled my shoulders. Whatever the Winchesters threw at me, I could handle it. Probably. Hopefully. I swung my feet out, and they touched the warm floor. I sighed in relief. There were a couple benefits that came with being a nearly all powerful being. I padded to the kitchen, zapping myself up a meal, prepping it for transport, and clicking myself ready for the day. 

I grabbed my breakfast, made sure my knife was securely strapped to my belt, and headed outside. I watched the rising sun creep up the horizon for a couple minutes, and ignored the nagging feeling that I had been here before. I had bigger things to worry about. I let out a slow breathe, mentally preparing myself, and flew to the mountain I was supposed to be greeting the boys on. 

As a wavelength of celestial intent, I marked up the mountain with Enochian. ‘Warm,’ ‘Cold,’ ‘Hot,’ etc. I smiled to myself, and solidified to where the Enochian sigils said ‘Hot, hot baby.’ I doubted Jack could read Enochian, and I knew that in literal translation the meaning was a little lost. However, I found it funny, and Cas would at least be able to understand the purpose of it.

At least, I hoped so. But I was a relatively patient being. I did spend 4 decades in the woods, waiting for a specific deer to come into a specific glen. I summoned up my meal, and got comfy on a nearby stump. I watched the sun rise over the mountains, and waited for the Winchesters to arrive. I waited two and a half hours. I didn’t mind, I had gotten there early, after all, and it gave me time to collect my thoughts and set up protective wards. Merely defensive, to keep the aggro humans and angels at a distance. Nothing that could be seen as harmful or violent. I didn’t need to provoke them anymore than I already had. 

They showed up without fanfare, a simple flapping of wings and then there they were- Jack, Cas, and Sam. No Dean, and I let out a breath I had been holding since the clock had turned to 7am. Jack saw me, and lit up. He rushed towards me, and made it a few feet before the wards I had set in place stopped him. He struggled against them, and they flared repeatedly. 

“Jack,” I said warningly. “Stop. I want to talk but I need space.”

Jack looked hurt, and I frowned sympathetically. “Sorry cuz, that’s the way it’s gotta be. I really don’t want a repeat of last time.” I said, feeling for him but not wanting to give him any leeway. As I’ve learned with most people, if you give them an inch, they’ll take a mile. And anymore, I don’t have many miles left to give. Or shits to give. 

Jack tried to step forward again, and the sigils flared brighter. My eyes flared with them, not to threaten but to emphasize my point. Jack looked away briefly, submitting. Sam stepped forward, with a gun half drawn, and his eyes frequently searching the area for any traps, or enemies. There are traps around, set by me, but they would only be triggered by me, if I wanted them to go off. 

Sam cleared his throat, a little nervous. I leveled a glare at them, wanting to put a front that I was peeved. And I was, really. Not too terribly, as I expected Jack to be accompanied, but peeved nonetheless. 

“I thought I said Jack was to come alone, Sam. Cas.” I looked meaningfully at the two of them, my gaze firm. Sam cleared his throat again, and glanced away. Castiel merely met my eyes, his blue meeting mine. However, he was the first to look away. I smirked, taking the small victory.

Jack stepped forwards hopefully. Sam mirrored him, always a half step in front of Jack, ready to shield the boy from anything I might try. I sighed, more than a little frustrated, but didn’t speak, letting Jack, my main focus, lead the conversation. 

Jack’s dark blonde mini-bangs fell over his eyes, and he flicked his head back quickly to renew his sight. It only works momentarily, and he huffed quietly, frustrated. I let out a soft smile. I had a son who- no. Not right now. 

“You want to talk. I do too. Let’s do that,” Jack said earnestly. I nod, slowly. His eager eyes met mine, his full of hope, mine clear and calm. A little resigned.   
“What do you wanna know, kiddo?” I asked him, projecting for all the world I’m an open book.   
“Tell me… about why you’re here.”

I sighed. “Better get comfy, kid.” He stared at me, a tad confused. I snapped him, Castiel, and Sam up camp chairs, and a cooler with sodas and beers mixed in. 

“It’s a loooong story, boys.” I allowed myself to lean back in my stump, my grace making it cushy instead of uncomfortable. 

“I was born in the 16th century, in dark times. Your dad had been locked in the cage for a couple dozen centuries, but was still managing to cause trouble, sowing dissent and riling up demons from his part of the cage. My dad, your uncle, had fled Heaven by this time, too many politics, according to him, and was living it up as a pagan god. This meant a lot of orgies, lot of parties where gods met and dallied with other gods. Lot of drinking, too. My mother was a demi-goddess, child of some small time god in a now long dead religion. But back then, the small g gods and all their kids were relatively non combative, and… erm, prolific, and lots of inter-mingling of a bunch of small religions happened. 

My mom, for all intents and purposes, was basically human, had just enough juice to pop out a kid and not die from it. Which, for the time, was fairly impressive, remember. So when she was burned at the stake when I was five, she died and stayed dead. The officials of the area thought she was a witch- not completely wrong, but not right, per se. 

Dear old dad was AWOL, probably didn’t know I existed until I threw a fit, seeing my mommy at the stake. I leveled that village, and all the townspeople in it. That caught the gods’ collective eye, and after I had wandered to a small town a couple miles over, a god would swing by every other month or so. They would bring me small gifts, make sure the local folk didn’t drive me out, make sure I was safe and decently fed, all that. They would also make sure I wasn’t theirs- no one wanted to take responsibility for a small child, not with their habits. Not with my powers, either. Could you imagine a five year old with world ending powers having a tantrum? 

Enough blessings were gifted upon the village when the gods saw me in good health and good standing that the people of the area were wary of me, but treated me well. Enough gods were familiar with my mother that there was a slow stream of gods through the home I stayed at for years. In between visits, I spent my time at an orphanage, and I grew up, learning things that girls of the time learned. 

Gabriel, as you remember, was going by Loki at the time, and he was the last to visit me, naturally. His grace immediately recognized mine, and mine his. It caused another unfortunate… blowout. He managed to write it off to his cohorts, and took a ‘leave of absence’ to deal with me. 

He couldn’t by himself, of course. I was more powerful than he could deal with- an upset fifteen year old, dealing with grief and anger and abandonment and trauma for years, on top of potentially world ending powers. He tried to teach me, of course, but the dude had been living it up as a god for decades- and not one that was particularly capable of, or used to, dealing with kids. 

God, although now he goes by Chuck, had been gone for centuries at this point. But apparently he still kept an eye on this rock- according to him it’s his favorite, even though he doesn’t like all of what has happened on it. So he learned of my existence in fairly short order, and after my dad stepped up and couldn’t handle me, Pop Pop stepped up. Took charge, taught me how to not accidentally toast this rock. 

Intentionally with him was fine, but I needed to know how to control my powers. Then, when Chuck was certain I wasn’t gonna roast his favorite petri dish, he left. Don’t know where to, but he left, and has only contacted me once since.   
And that, buddy boy,” I said, pointing to Jack, “was to make sure that I taught you how to not roast the planet.” 

Jack quirked his head, confusion and hurt in his eyes. “Why does God not come back? Teach me?” 

I looked at my cousin, with sympathy in my eyes. “Granddad was never big on teaching everyone everything. He would teach the firsts of things, and expect everyone else to learn from the first. Not the best system, gotta say, but if that’s the only option…”   
I trailed off. The three men in front of me looked thoughtful, absorbing all of the information I had just given them. 

Jack peered up at me. “What is God like  
?”  
I chuckled at him. I have to admit, I was not expecting him to ask that, of all things. “God, is, well… He’s twitchy. At least the vessel I met him in was. Nice guy, if a little old-fashioned. To be expected, as someone who literally has been around since the dawn of everything. He’s pretty even keeled, but gets frustrated kinda easily. He’s a little…jaded. A little… tired. He’s tired. Loving, but tired.”

Jack had wide, solemn eyes. He nodded thoughtfully. “He does not trust me?” I laughed a little bitterly. “God? He doesn’t really trust anyone. Like I said, he’s a twitchy dude.” 

Castiel shook himself out of his reverie. “So you have truly been sent on a mission from God?”

I nodded cheerfully, reclining comfortably in my stump-chair. “Yup! Like I’ve been telling you from the beginning. Wanna help, not hurt, etc. Glad we’re on the same page, finally.”


	18. Chapter 18

Dean paced furiously in the library. Bobby sat at a table nearby, steadfastly ignoring his adopted son. His pacing continued, until Bobby glanced up from his tome. “Boy,” Bobby said grouchily. “Don’t wear a hole in the floor now.” 

Dean exhaled heavily. “It’s not right,” Dean said vehemently. “I should be there with them!”

Bobby rolled his eyes at the hunter in front of him. “No you shouldn’t. You’re stressed out and pissed off and not doing anyone any favors standing here more ticked than a wet cat. Go get some sleep, or I’ll make you get some.” 

Dean growled lowly. He didn’t want to rest, the hunter wanted to make sure his brother, his angel, and the boy were alright. He sent a series of texts to Sam and Cas. No response. He growled again. They really needed to invest in a phone for Jack. Although, Dean thought, frustratedly, what use was any of them having a phone if no one answered it! He sent up a couple brief prayers to Cas, still no response. 

Dean started hyperventilating, caught in an unforgiving loop of ‘what if’s. Images of Sam, Cas, and Jack in various, deadly situations flashed before his eyes. Captured, killed, tortured. Bloody and crying out for help. 

Dean stumbled, and fell to the floor, overwhelmed. With everything going on, he couldn’t afford to lose his family now. Not again. He sent up one more broken prayer to Cas before passing out. 

OOOOOOOOO

Sam got up and started pacing. Castiel also stood up abruptly. “I must go now,” Cas said, and vanished. 

I raised an eyebrow at my uncle’s actions, but shrugged it off. He was an odd angel, but I had no qualms letting him go do… whatever. He had his reasons, and I had to admit his frequent intensity kinda freaked me out. 

Sam also blinked, and stopped pacing, startled by Cas’ disappearance. Jack, however, seemed nonplussed. 

My cousin remained seated and thinking. I lightly tossed a rock at him. “Don’t strain yourself thinking too hard, Jack.” I teased. He batted the stone away without a thought. “Do not worry, I will not,” Jack said seriously.

Sam and I made eye contact, and I gave him a ‘really?’ look. Sam shrugged minutely, as if to say ‘he’s always like this.’

“So, Jack,” I said, “Whatcha thinking there, dude?” The young Nephilim stayed silent. I rolled my eyes, and summoned up something to snack on. I solidified an apple, and offered it to Sam. He pulled a face. “It’s not, like, poisoned or anything, right?” I grinned at him, a little devilishly. “Now if it was, why would I tell you?” I paused, seeing a concerned look on Sam’s face. “No, Sam, it’s not. If I wanted to kill you I would off you in better ways than with a dang apple.” I tossed it at him, and the shiny red apple sailed through the sigils without issue. Sam caught the apple with deft hands, and made an aborted gesture of thanks when Castiel reappeared. With Dean, looking pale and pretty out of it, in tow. 

Wonderful, I thought to myself. Just wonder-fucking-ful. Dean looked around wildly, taking in the forms of Sam, Jack, and Cas, body relaxing as he saw all of them unharmed. His eyes were drawn to me, taking in me relaxing, on quite the impressive tree-throne. He tensed again, and took a protective half-step in front of Cas. 

“Hiya, Dean-o,” I said, a sharp tone in my voice. He leveled a cool glare at me. I ignored him for the moment, focusing instead on Cas. 

“We good, Uncle Cas?” I asked inquisitively, lasering in on him. He nodded affirmatively, but didn’t look convinced, shifting where he stood awkwardly. He was tense, uncomfortable. However, I shrugged internally. Didn’t need to worry myself about my weird uncle and his even weirder hunter. 

Dean stood still for the moment, but his eyes were trained on me. I glanced back at him. “Something you need to say, bucko?” I asked snarkily. Dean didn’t deign me with a response, merely intensified his glare. Boy, if looks could kill, I would be long, long dead. 

Sam firmly placed his hand on Dean’s shoulder, pulling his attention away from me. Thank Chuck. Sam glanced at Dean with concern, but Dean shook Sam’s hand off his shoulder. There was something off about him, but whatever is was Dean obviously didn’t want to talk about it in front of me. 

“So, class,” I said, pushing past the tension of Cas and Dean’s unexpected arrival. “Any questions?”

Dean scoffed, the skepticism in his eyes shining bright. “Yea. Why should we trust you?” I leaned my head back, and let out a long, loud groan. “I already covered thissssss,” I whined, upset. “It’s not my fault y’all have trust issues!”

Sam shook his head. “Actually, you haven’t proved to us why we can trust you,” he said firmly.I raised my hand to my chest, acting as though I was hurt by his words. “E tu, Brute?” My teasing words garnered no response, other than a host of blank stares. I sighed, truly frustrated at how thick skulled these guys were. 

“Ok, so, you want me to prove to you that you can trust me? That my mission is real? Well, God ain’t around, so he can’t vouch for me. Most of our wonderful Heavenly Hostesses wanna kill me dead, for being an ‘abomination.’” I put heavy air quotes around the last word, wincing a little at the reminder. “So, instead, let’s use my past actions with you guys. Nonexistent, nonexistent, peaceful, peaceful, try to escape but not hurt anybody, actually escape and still not hurt anyone, and now meeting peacefully again. No traps, no tricks, no major character deaths.” I counted off my points with my hands, snark on full blast. 

Now to go in for the metaphorical kill. “However, you guys? Y’all preach peace and wanting to help and protect people, but I was chained up, beat up, and my life was threatened. If anything, I should be suspicious of y’all!” I finished with an index finger pointed accusingly in their direction. I looked at Sam, smug. “Any other objections?”

Sam looked away, and cleared his throat awkwardly. “That’s what I thought,” I said, triumphantly. 

Dean looked furious. “Listen, you little-,” he growled, stomping towards me. Sam tried to grab his brother, physically prevent him from getting to me, but Dean managed to shove past the man. He made decent headway, until he hit my Enochian sigils. He thrashed, but the wards held firm. He stepped away, gathered himself, and flung himself at me again. I watched the stubborn man, wanting to smirk but honestly a little saddened by his determination to get to me. 

He didn’t even make the sigils glow like my cousin had, and I chuckled humorlessly at his bull-headed-ness. Just to see what could happen, I let him through the first set of wards, and his confidence grew, charging at me again. Until he hit the second barrier, that is. 

At this point, he was about 4 feet away from me. I slowly got up from my chair and walked over to where he was held firm by the wards. He could struggle all he wanted, but he wouldn’t get through unless I let him. His eyes widened as he saw me approach him, and Dean reached for his gun. Without second thought, I sent his gun clattering away. I stepped closer, until we were only six inches away. Dean was a good 9 inches taller than me, but the intense glare I gave him seemed to shrink him down. 

I smiled coldly. “Dean, honey,” I said calmly. “If you ever lay your hands on me again, I will fucking kill you.” I reached up and patted his cheek condescendingly, reaching through the barrier, and then snapped him back to the Bunker where he belonged.   
This seemed to shock the other three with me out of their reverie. Sam drew his weapon, aiming it at me, and Castiel’s eyes widened. Jack gasped, and looked frantically around for the vanished hunter. 

“What did you do to him?” Sam demanded loudly. I slid my eyes over to where Sam stood. His hands were firmly on the gun on his hip, although he had yet to draw. “I sent him back to the bunker, Sam, he’s fine. However, he was interrupting our talk, and he was pissing me off,” I replied honestly.

Sam still was tense and radiating concern for his brother. The tall human glanced quickly at Castiel, who looked displeased but nodded, confirming that what I said was true. Jack seemed to be in awe. “You said you wanted to teach me.” He said this like a statement, but I knew that my cousin was asking me. 

“Yes, I do,” I said shortly. Jack stepped towards me, and I let my cousin through the sigils. “Then teach me,” He replied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Halloween, y'all! For those of you with plans, stay safe out there! Also, I promise these guys will start getting along with Trisha. Eventually.   
> Also also, I now have ~45k of this monster written! *happy dance* I'm pretty happy with this update schedule, especially with college picking up (and kicking my ass). Let me know what ya'll think!


	19. Chapter 19

Back at the Bunker, Dean was pissed. He had tried apathy towards the Nephilim girl, but something about her just rubbed him wrong. Dean chuckled drily- he could’ve worded that better. Masturbation jokes aside, the older hunter felt like something was off about Trisha. Like she was keeping secrets, and while Dean Winchester seemed to have no problem withholding secrets from his family, God forbid someone else keep secrets from him. 

Dean sighed exasperatedly. He couldn’t get back to where his family and the girl were meeting, unless Cas came and collected him. Dean felt useless, and bile rose up in his throat. He had failed to protect them, again. He had failed to protect Cas, again.   
Pushing down these thoughts, he headed to the kitchen to drown his feelings. 

OOOOOOOOOOO

Jack looked at me seriously. “Then teach me,” he repeated. I smiled triumphantly, as relief flowed through my veins. Finally! “Alright kiddo. Sam can’t stick around for this, though.” I said solemnly, looking seriously at the tall hunter. 

Sam let out an indignant noise of protest, but I caught his eyes with a somber stare. “Sam,” I said, “when God was teaching me, we went to one of his other creations. I fuckin’ decimated it, I had so little control over my powers. I can get Jack and I,” with this Castiel let out a noise, asserting that he would be accompanying Jack and I, and I rolled my eyes before continuing, “and Cas somewhere to practice safely. But you? Sam, you’re human. A really tough one, sure, but human nonetheless. Our grace would tear you apart and the atoms you’re made of would cease to exist.” 

Sam let out a wince. “I don’t want that to happen to you, you damn tree. And I think Angel and Angel Jr. here agree. So I’ll zap you back to your weird basement and we’ll go destroy another part of the universe. We good?” I asked, pinning him with a glare. I didn’t let Sam reply before snapping him away, to join Dean. 

Castiel looked at me harshly, but I ignored the hard blue eyes sending daggers my way. “Dude, you know Sam is fine,” I said, brushing it off. 

I turned my attention to Jack. “You ready, cuz?” I asked gently. His eyes slid to mine, and even though I clearly saw the uncertainty shining through, he nodded determinedly. I took his hand in my right and Castiel’s in my left. Both of them just stared at my hands like they were expecting to be bitten. 

I smirked, and willed us away to the practice planet my grandfather had taken me to centuries before. 

OOOOOOOOO

Sam arrived at the bunker between one blink and another, and staggered as he regained his bearings. He was in the kitchen, as was his brother. Dean startled as Sammy appeared in front of him, but seeing no damage to his sibling and no guests, he relaxed again. He grabbed his beer with one hand, and held his head in the other. 

Sam frowned, seeing his brother so… broken. It was no secret that Dean carried a lot of guilt over… everything, and as time inched on Sam saw how many more burdens his brother bore. However, Sam thought dourly, Dean getting drunk didn’t make his problems lessen, just seem like less for a while. 

The tall hunter walked over to his brother, and took away his beer. “What the hell, Sammy?” Dean sputtered, grabbing blindly for his drink back. Sam frowned deeper, and corrected his brother. “It’s Sam.” Dean snorted. “Give me back my drink, Sammy,” he said, half taunting, half serious. 

Sam shook his head, and placed Dean’s beer on top of the tall fridge, and stood in front of the refrigerator door, effectively blocking Dean off from his coping mechanism. “Not funny, Sam,” Dean said, sobering. Sam sent him a meaningful look. “I’m not kidding, Dean.” 

Dean glared at his brother, and it finally set in that it was only Sam, no sign of Jack or Cas. He squinted, and looked around the kitchen to make sure they weren’t there. “Where’s Jack and Cas, Sam?” Sam winced, knowing Dean wouldn’t like what he would say next. “Trisha has taken Jack and Cas to a place where Jack can practice his powers.” Sam very intentionally neglected to mention this was on a different.. planet? Sam was unclear on the specifics, and knew that what little he did know would only upset his brother more. 

“What? Where?” Dean demanded, upset that his family was away from him, and that he hadn’t been aware of the plan. Sam winced minutely, but Dean was incredibly fluent was Sam-speak. “Where are they, Sam?” His voice became cold, laced with worry.   
“They’re somewhere safe, Dean,” Sam tried to placate him, “Where no one can be accidentally hurt.”

Dean snorted disbelievingly, but didn’t say anything else. His mind was racing, and he just wanted to stop thinking. Sam was blocking the way to his first coping mechanism, so Dean headed to the garage, so he could do maintenance on his Baby- his second coping mechanism. 

Sam watched his brother leave, concerned. But, Sam rationalized, Dean probably wasn’t headed for a drink- his brother was walking towards the garage with set shoulders, but he wasn’t dressed to go out. Sam heard the supply room door open, then shut, and his brother pad down the hallway towards the garage. 

After Sam was sure he was alone, he sagged against the refrigerator door, and let out a pained sigh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter, I know. Making chapter breaks is hard. Unbeta'd, so please forgive any errors (and maybe tell me where they are so I can fix them)   
> What do y'all think? Feedback is desired and appreciated!


	20. Chapter 20

The sky here was different, a brilliant red, and the air was clean- even cleaner than the air on Earth when I was born. A weird, blueish grey moss spread across the ground, the only vegetation for miles. We stood in front of a deep chasm, which you couldn’t see the bottom of. 

I looked at Jack, and past him to Cas. Both of them were ignoring me, looking around in awe. I smiled to myself- my grandfather’s creations were truly wonderful, and here, on this relatively untouched planet, you could feel his power. Gabriel told me this place felt like heaven, before it became distorted and warped by other angels’ agendas. 

I cleared my throat to catch their attention- both turned to me with shining eyes, heavy with emotion. I ignored the unshed tears, knowing when I first came here I was similarly moved. “Jack, come here.” He walked over to me uncertainly. I pointed to the chasm gaping in front of us. “Walk over it.”

He stared at me, astonished. I repeated myself, but still he did not move. I rolled my eyes, grabbed his hand, and walked out over the canyon with him. He winced, expecting to fall, but I kept us aloft. He slowly uncurled from himself, and looked around.   
We were indeed standing on thin air and he flinched again. 

“Feel what my grace is doing?” I asked him. I felt a brush of his grace against mine, and he hesitantly nodded. “Copy it.” His grace struggled, moving ineffectively and inexperienced, and I helped him warp it correctly. I looked at him solemnly. “I’m going to let go, ok? I’ll stand right here, but you have to keep yourself up.” Frantic eyes searched my face, hoping that I was joking. 

However, I was completely serious. God and Gabe had done the same to me, and I figured that while it wouldn’t be fun for Jack, mildly traumatizing him would be fine. I unpried his hand from mine, and disconnected my grace from his, no longer keeping him up.

Jack started to fall, and Cas, from the solid ground of the dirt 3 feet away from us, let out a concerned shout. He ran to the edge of the chasm and stared down, fear written clear across his face. I felt Cas’ grace try to send him after the boy, to save him, but I held him back. It would do no good if Jack became used to someone saving him the moment he was in trouble. 

I merely watched Jack as he fell, and the tether of my grace on him felt his grace struggle, but slowly get the hang out it. Jack’s fall slowed, but he struggled in stopping completely. As Jack began nearing the bottom of the chasm, I grabbed hold of my celestial tether and yanked. Suddenly, Jack was beside me again, breathing heavily, eyes wild and a shining gold. His grace and hands clung desperately to mine. 

I smiled reassuringly. “You ok, kid?” I asked, looking at him with a twinkle in my eye, assessing him. He shook his frantically, and my grin widened. “You look fine to me. Just a little shaken up.” I paused, as Jack’s breathing evened out. I gave him a minute to collect himself, and when he looked back up at me, I enthusiastically told him, ”ok, let’s go again.”

He let out a distressed noise as I released him again. His grace still struggled to stop his downward descent, but he slowed quicker this time, and soon he was only floating downward gently instead of dropping like a rock. I peered down at him, and called out, “Don’t focus on stopping yourself! Try and come back up to me!” I heard him grunt in frustration and I let out a chuckle. This was much more entertaining when I was on the teaching end. 

Castiel, I could tell, was still slightly distressed. I peeked over at my uncle, while staying mindful of the tether I had on Jack. He was making slow, aborted movements upwards, but progress was progress, no matter how slow. I kept track of my cousin while turning the majority of my attention to Cas. 

“What, is this not how you were taught?” I asked him playfully. Castiel turned soulful eyes to me- ironic, I know, since he lacked a soul. “No,” he said in his gravelly voice, “I do not remember how I was taught to access my grace.” 

My eyebrows furrowed. “You don’t remember your time as a fledgling?” I asked, intrigued. He shook his head regretfully. “Only in ‘bits and pieces,’ as the humans say.” I smirked, although the knowledge was troubling. Castiel was an angel- memories fading were impossible. The only way memories could disappear were if Cas himself wanted them gone, or if a higher level angel went crawling around in Castiel’s brain, picking and choosing what memories could stay and which ones would go. I scowled. It could have been any number of the higher, self-righteous angels, always fighting for selfish, self-righteous causes and warping the perceptions of others to get them to fight for their causes too. 

I again sent up a thought of thanks to my father and grandfather for not making me be a full-blooded angel. The concept of them was wonderful, but the execution of them, especially after thousands of years of the in-fighting amongst them, was poor. I felt a twinge on my grace, and I knew Granddad had been listening in on my thought process. I smirked. Being human was also complicated, but existing as a human had… lower stakes. I liked being half and half. 

Castiel shook me out of my reverie. “Do you?” He asked me, referring to my time as a fledgling. I nodded, smiling softly to myself. “My father stood where I am, God near where you are. I, of course, was in Jack’s position. I have to say, I enjoy being up here considerably more.”

Castiel gave me a half smile, which I gladly returned. Jack let out an exasperated noise from about 10 feet below me. “I understand why!” He called up. I sat down cross-legged, and made eye contact. “You think this is bad, cuz? Wait til day two.”


	21. Chapter 21

Jack startled, and dropped about 5 feet before he caught himself again. I could tell he was tiring- using our grace when our emotions spiked came naturally, but using it in such controlled bursts was exhausting, when one was first learning. I pulled him up to me, and smiled at the kid. He really was so young, it occurred to me. Compared to me, and especially compared to Cas. He held so much power, but he was confused and nervous about using it, lest he hurt the people he loved. 

“Want to try something else?” I asked him. He nodded, ever eager to please even though his energy was lagging. We walked back to solid ground, and Jack was visibly relieved. Castiel’s concerns also lessened, and walked to stand next to the boy, for moral support or proximity or something. 

I created a small ball of light in my hands, and nodded to him, indicating he was to replicate the process. He managed to do it, a smaller ball of light coalescing in his hands. I slowly increased the size of the ball, Jack watching me intently. He mimicked me after a moment’s hesitation. I made the ball glow four different colors: black, grey, white, and purple. Jack also made his ball change colors, but instead of following my pattern the ball in his hands flashed pink, yellow, and blue. We smiled knowingly at each other.

Back to business, I increased the orb in my hand to the size of a basketball and without warning, tossed it at Jack. His orb disappeared as he struggled to catch mine. “Nice reflexes, cuz. Here, toss it back to me,” I said encouragingly. “Here, make your ball again?” Jack complied, looking perplexed. “Now, keeping yours still formed, try to catch mine. Multitask.”

I threw the orb again, and Jack’s small light flickered as he tried to concentrate on two things at once. His orb flickered once, twice, before exploding outwards, releasing a shockwave of grace that ruffled my metaphorical feathers and blew me backwards.   
I stumbled back into the canyon, the blast so strong is forced me downwards into the chasm a small ways. However, I caught myself with my grace, and popped back up quickly, tangibly feeling Jack’s distress. 

Castiel lay prone on the ground, unconscious. Jack knelt beside him, distraught. I strode towards them, and joined Jack by our uncle’s side. I placed my hand on his head, assessing the situation. “He’s only knocked out, Jack, he’s fine,” I said, placating my cousin. He didn’t look convinced, and I sighed. “Here,” I said gently, “touch his forehead. Feel what I’m doing with my grace?” I glanced over to him, and he nodded. “I’m checking to see if there are any wounds to his grace. Can you feel any?” 

Jack shook his head, stunned into silence. “Cas is a seraph, those guys are sturdy. But we’re pretty high powered. If we had been around humans that blast probably would’ve killed them. That’s why I took us out here, where we can’t hurt anyone,” I told my cousin.

Jack looked guilty, but I interrupted his mental downward spiral before he could get too far down. “Jack,” I said, waiting until he made eye contact to continue speaking, “You don’t have great control over your powers yet. But you will. I promise, k?” 

I could tell Jack was doubtful. I gestured behind us, to where the canyon gaped. “I made that, the first time I came here to learn how to control these powers, because I was frustrated. And then my father and God made me practice in it, and on it, making it deeper and wider as I grew stronger and more in control. You don’t need to make something like that but getting a handle on your powers is necessary. So we don’t accidentally knock out some less sturdy people.” 

“I… do not want to hurt anyone good.” Jack said slowly. My lips quirked upwards. “Neither do I. Now, do you think you can wake Cas up?” I asked him, testing him. Wide, unsure eyes make contact with my firm, certain ones. “I can walk you through it, kinda?” I offered, wanting to encourage the kid. 

He stared at me, hesitant. “You gotta fix what you break, kid,” I told him firmly. With this his resolve firmed, and he nodded determinedly. I flexed my grace experimentally, waiting for Jack to do the same. I walked him through the parts of the human mind, using Castiel’s vessel as an example, and then did the same for what comprised an angel’s center of consciousness. My grace hovered over the spot that would wake our uncle. “Here. Push here, gently,” I showed Jack, and let him do the honors. 

Castiel jolted awake, gasping and coughing. Jack and I moved back, letting Cas reorient himself. He sat up sharply and his eyes moved frantically. Jack immediately tried to move back into Castiel’s space, about to check on him, but I held my cousin away from our uncle while he oriented himself. 

Castiel was a fighter by nature, and dazed and confused as he was, he would strike out at any unknowns, Jack being included in that category. I knew from experience, intruding on someone’s space, especially as PTSD’d up as Castiel was, would not end well.   
I saw the haze clear in Castiel’s eyes, and then I allowed Jack to move in. They had a touching moment, and I allowed it, averting my eyes for a moment. 

Jack and Cas finished their moment, and turned to me. “Alright, kids,” I said, easing the tension. “Let’s wrap it up for the day, yeah?” They both nodded solemnly, in unison. I placed my hands on their shoulders, and teleported the boys back to the bunker.   
I stayed a second longer, looking at a place that had wildly changed my supernaturally long life. Then, I teleported back to my house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in one day! These two were originally one, but I thought it was too long, and then I realized that it wouldn't be fair to y'all if I only uploaded the first part of this today. Anyway, gimme your thoughts? Your kudos/comments are much appreciated!


	22. Chapter 22

Jack and Cas appeared at the doors of the bunker, outside. They looked at each other, silently agreeing to something, before walking inside. 

Sam greeted them from the table of the war room, sitting in front of his laptop, presumably searching for cases. Some other hunters were sitting off to the side, talking quietly, but as they noticed the boys’ arrival, they all found excuses to leave.   
“How’d the training go?” Sam asked, half distracted, attention primarily on his laptop. Jack replied, “It went well,” in an odd, off tone. 

Sam pulled his focus from his laptop, zeroing in on Jack. “’Went well?’” Sam quoted. Jack was intently staring at his shoes. “Yes,” he said quietly. “It went well.” 

Cas, picking up on Jack’s uneasiness, jumped in. “Jack is a quick learner. He did very… well.” Sam looked unconvinced, but nodded, letting them avoid the topic for now. No one was dead, or visibly harmed, so Sam let Jack and the equally suspicious Cas be.  
Cas wandered off to find Dean, to check on the green-eyed hunter, and alert him that Cas and Jack were back at the bunker, practice having gone ‘smoothly.’ Cas walked into Dean’s room, and saw him sleeping restlessly. Dean was in the middle of a nightmare, Cas could tell. Dean was tense, made small, distressed noises, and thrashed in his sleep. Castiel knew that Dean didn’t sleep often, or well, so the angel quietly walked to Dean’s side, placed two fingers to Dean’s head, and sent him into a restful sleep.

Jack stayed with Sam, sitting next to the lanky, plaid covered hunter, reading a thick tome Sam pushed his way. 

OOOOOOOOOO

I appeared in front of the door to the house Gabriel and I were staying at- legitimately owned by me, a luxury I usually didn’t indulge in. I had forgotten I owned it- the house and the 300 acres around it was bought by ‘my husband,’ me in disguise, in the early 1800s. 

Gabriel, though, had remembered it- he managed to show up wherever I was every couple of decades, spectacularly drunk, gone by the time he was sober. We didn’t ever talk about those times; it was a silent agreement between us that they ‘didn’t happen.’ The fact he remembered where my house had impressed me- I had forgotten it.

I sighed- I knew I hadn’t truly forgotten it, but pretended to, allowed myself that lie, because of what had happened in this house, two centuries ago, approximately. 

I had a wife, although she was not recognized as such back then. 

To the people of the village around us, we were the two spinsters of the area- not enough men to go around, poor dears, and as women it would have been scandalous should we strike out on our own, to another village. Then, we didn’t even own the house- gifted to us by the church, and we had a male priest, our chaperone dedicated to us, to aid us if we need anything. 

Inside our house, my wife, Isabelle, and I scoffed and chafed under the ‘guidance’ of a man- we were both used to more freedom than this new century brought women. Isabelle was a witch- a good one, with natural powers and a soft heart. She had spent her last couple decades in a nunnery far away from the village, I in a completely different country. 

We both made our way to the same village within the span of a year, each of us accompanied by men that soon had a reason to leave, and immediately felt each other’s powers. The available men of the village after we arrived never lasted long- finding a lovely wife within the village, leaving in search of adventure or work, joining the nearby monastery, and in one instance, when a man was particularly…aggressive… in his ‘courting’ of Isabelle, he left on a hunting trip and didn’t make it back. 

We had been partners for almost 10 years, living together in peace, relatively unbothered by the local folk. But my time in this place was nearing- I was stringent in adhering to my ‘no more than 10 years in one place’ rule. I knew Isabelle would leave with me, if I asked her. 

One day I was walking up the trail to our home, returning from the village with some skeins of yarn I knew Isabelle would love, when I heard a piercing shriek- my wife’s. 

I raced up the hill to our house, and saw my wife laying prone on the floor. Sharply dressed men, posing as men of the church, stood over her, one holding a gleaming blade that dripped blood. My wife’s, my love’s, blood. The Men of Letters- old, stuffy men who insisted on an order my wife and I did not agree with, so they sent agents out to kill us.

I let out a cry, and with that the men standing over my wife disappeared, erased from existence with a single thought of mine. I rushed to her side, and cradled her in my arms as her breathing came out in short, pained bursts. She gave me a final, pained smile, and I let out a sob as she relaxed in my arms. 

The days after her death were a blur. I dressed her in a long, blue, free-flowing dress, her favorite, one that scandalized our neighbors and one I had delighted in. I wrapped her in our bedsheets, tucking in her favorite herbs and talismans. I burned her among the plants we grew, staring blankly into the fire, my eyes blurry with tears and smoke. I changed my face, as I could not stand seeing my reflection, as Isabelle’s wife, in our washbasin. 

As a sharply dressed, strange man, who was courting one of the two spinsters up the way, I bought up all of the houses in the area, paying generously enough for the properties that the families were gone by the end of the week. I burned their houses, and cast spells that Isabelle had taught me to allow quick growing, letting our garden run rampant and overgrow the entire abandoned, charred village. 

I submitted the deed to my land to the local government, still as a man, solidifying my ownership of the considerable property, with the instructions that no one was to come to the property, or try to buy it. I returned to our house, empty without my partner’s presence, and feeling a chasm widening within my chest, vowed to never love another. 

I set spells of our, my, property, so that it would never fall into disrepair, or tolerate visitors for long. I looked around for one last time, and walked out the door. 

I appeared across the world, on a busy street, and started walking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry that this is a day late! I wasn't feeling well last night. (is it because of finals, you ask? yes. yes it is.)   
> I hit 50k on my word document, and I'm still trying to keep at least 10k of buffer between what y'all read and what's been updated on the fic so I can keep a relatively consistent updating schedule (and so I can edit the shit out of what originally comes out.)  
> Anyway, hope y'all enjoy! Comments and kudos feed the beast.


	23. Chapter 23

In the bunker, Dean woke up surprisingly rested. He could have sworn that he heard the flap of wings heralding an angel arriving, but as he looked blearily around his room, he saw no one. He shook his head, clearing the cobwebs. He must’ve been dreaming. 

Across the bunker, Cas stood, his vessel’s heart pounding. He knew, of course, how Dean didn’t like Cas watching him sleep, but Cas found it incredibly relaxing. Dean’s face was much more open in his sleep, and he didn’t carry tension… everywhere like he did when he was awake. 

Cas, luckily, had noticed that Dean was waking up, and managed to fly to the war room before Dean could notice the angel’s presence. He knew him, and Cas would have to suffer through another talk about ‘personal space’ from Dean if the hunter caught him, and the angel had no desire to have a repeat of that. The most recent conversation had consisted of a lot of blushing and stammering on Dean’s part, with Castiel looking at the man, confused as to what the big deal was about ‘personal space.’ 

Dean eventually stumbled out of his room, and after taking care of the multitude of his human needs, joined Cas in the war room. Sam joined them soon after, and Jack and Bobby walked in together. 

Dean disappeared for a few minutes to the kitchen, preparing a quick breakfast for them all, and came back, holding plates for everyone save Cas and Jack. After everyone was settled with their food, Dean also sat down, pulling up a tome on angels, and dug into his breakfast.

The entire Winchester clan glanced at each other, and all silently agreed to not address the elephant in the room, keeping the morning and their breakfast peaceful. 

OOOOOOOOO

I was shaken out of my reverie by Gabriel. My father opened the front door hesitantly, recognizing the empty, heartbroken look I wore. 

He said nothing, merely held the door open as I slowly walked in. “You remembered,” I said, a little tearfully, letting him know that I had finally placed the house. He smiled gently. “It’s important to remember the simpler times.” He said softly, and walked away. I couldn’t help but agree with him. 

I set about cleaning and updating my house- not tasks that took very long, given my grace and the spells I had placed on the house ages ago. I prepared my father and I a meal- not necessary for either of us, but comfort food is comfort food, for any species. Gabriel, as an archangel, had no need for human food, but his time as a lesser god on Earth had opened up his palate. I, as a Nephilim, only needed food occasionally, able to subsist off my grace is needed. But I needed some comfort, as did my father. 

I summoned all the ingredients for ärtsoppa, a Swedish soup that was quite frequently part of my childhood. Peas and pork, onion and thyme, fresh ginger and beef bullion cubes. 

The majority of the people who lived in my childhood villages did not believe in the Roman Catholic God, as the villages I lived in were on the outskirts of modern society, preferring to stubbornly stick to the Norse gods of the past. However, enough Christians lived in the villages that ärtsoppa was given to me or my mother by the more well-off members of the area. Later, as an ‘orphan’ I received ärtsoppa on Thursdays, the day before the Friday fast. I did not participate in the fast, since as I was an orphan I ate when I could, not knowing when or from whom, whether it was from god or mortal, my next meal would come. 

As I aged, and more gods came and went, I no longer was a poor orphan. I started catching men’s eye, and the gods who visited me left small gifts, which accumulated over time. I could manage to make ärtsoppa myself, and the men and boys who were not intimidated by the fact that I could fend for myself often joined me for meals. I still did not participate in the Friday fast of the Roman Catholics, but ärtsoppa was familiar, from my days as a woman’s daughter and an orphan both. It would do well as a comfort food. 

I prepared it slowly on the stovetop, taking my time. I lost myself in the familiar routine, mixing old routines with modern technology. I eventually set the stove to a simmer, and read while I waited. I occasionally got up to check on the soup. 

Gabriel, naturally, appeared when the thick soup was finished, as I was doling out two bowls’ worth and setting the rest away for later. “Ärtsoppa!” He cried out, pleased. “You know,” he told me, conspiratorially, “I always found it funny that the Norse gods enjoyed ärtsoppa once it was introduced, even though it helped praise big G-o-d, not any of them.”

I smiled, also enjoying the irony of it, and silently handed him his bowl, topped off with the stone ground mustard and thin-sliced leeks necessary for any true bowl of ärtsoppa. 

We ate silently, savoring the taste and the memories that came with it. I finished my bowl in time, and set the ceramic into the sink with a clink. 

I waved to my father, a brief dismissal, and walked to my room, much different than the one I had shared with my wife, and wrote out another note to my cousin, stating that he and Cas should show up at the mountain at nine am, eastern time. I made a note to myself to send the note an hour before I wished to meet the boys. I had no desire to give the boys much time to plan ahead. 

I set aside my notebook, and lay down on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. I allowed myself to get some sleep- as a Nephilim, I didn’t need nearly as much as your standard human, but I found if I got a power nap in before any major adventures it helped.   
I woke up around seven hours later, and collected myself. I stretched, arching my back and groaning. I sat up slowly, and made my way to the bathroom. 

I stared in the mirror, taking in my reflection. I looked better, having recovered some from my time with the Winchesters. The cut on my cheek, courtesy of the older Winchester, had long healed, my grace taking care of it once it was released. The purple under my eyes had lessened, although on my current face, the pigment was always there. ‘My current face’ was actually what I looked like. I allowed myself to return to my original face every so often, so I could get a glimpse of who I was, and how drastically I had changed since I wore it last. 

I scoffed. The last time I had worn this face was the early 20th century, and ‘Eliza,’ my name for the time, lived as a farmgirl, who’s father was always ailing, never to see visitors. Eliza had many suitors, after her dark blue eyes and red-blonde hair constantly up in braids and buns. The boys liked to gossip about how long her hair would be down, although none of them ever managed to learn such scandalous information. No doubt, though, they were also after her allure as an heiress to a successful farming man, who had never mentioned a daughter until recently.

I smiled to myself. Eliza had boasted a thick Northeastern American accent, whereas I now had a mild Southern accent. And my hair, while still the red blonde of that time, now was a little longer than shoulder-length, and was constantly down in an easy side part. Years, upon years, upon years of having to have my hair up for ‘modesty’s sake’ had irritated me, as Eliza and countless other names, and so I enjoyed the simplicity of my morning hair routine now. Of course, my morning routine throughout the centuries had been simplified through grace when I was feeling particularly irritated, lazy, or rushed. 

But much like when Cas had taken care of my human needs, back in the bunker, I thought dourly to myself, shaking off the uncomfortable, crawling-skin feeling, grace got things done, the real thing always turned out better. 

I dragged my hairbrush through my hair, and once satisfied with the condition of it, I picked up my notebook, tore out the note for my cousin, and sent it to him. I made sure my knife was locked away within a hidden and warded safe I kept within the house, then snapped to the mountain where I would meet Castiel and Jack in an hour.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy thanksgiving, American peeps! I know its a day late again, but be thankful it's up I guess?  
> Let me know what you think!


	24. Chapter 24

The Winchester clan were gathered around the war room table, everyone quietly doing a different task, enjoying the peace. However, the easy feeling in the room was broken when a piece of paper appeared next to Jack, asking for his and Cas’ presence, for another ‘training sesh’ in an hour’s time. It was clearly from Trisha, and Sam tensed, prepared for Dean’s anger. 

However, Dean merely glanced over, saw the paper, and returned to his laptop, a scowl now present on his face. Cas, Sam, and Jack exchanged wary glances, but if Dean wasn’t going to press the issue, then for now neither would they. 

Dean sat up in his chair, and flipped the laptop in front of him to show the screen to his brother. “Found a case,” he said. “Potential vamp case, in Indiana. Three bodies, drained of blood. One victim that managed to get away, says she was attacked by some guys with, and I quote, ‘fucked up shark teeth’, but she was drunk so cops are saying she was seeing things.”

Sam looked intrigued. “How’d she get away?” He asked. Dean shrugged, saying, “Report didn’t mention it. Guess we go check it out, right?” Sam nodded, knowing that keeping his brother distracted from all of the Nephilim drama would be for the best. Especially, he thought to himself ironically, since he already knew and was actively trying to distract himself. Without drinking himself into a coma. 

“Sure,” Sam said, standing up. “When do you wanna leave?” Dean glanced at the clock, and then at his brother. “30 minutes?” Dean said, question more posed as an answer. Sam nodded again, and walked off towards his room, trailing after his brother.   
When the brothers were out of the room, Bobby finally removed himself from his book, and looked up at the two angels. “She actually helping you?” he asked Jack, skepticism thick in his voice. Jack almost looked offended on his cousin’s behalf. 

“Yes, Bobby, she has been very helpful. I am learning much about my grace,” Jack said firmly. Bobby focused on Cas, who visibly agreed with the boy. Bobby sighed, displeasure and relief warring in his mind. However, Bobby decided not to press the issue further, and returned to his book. 

Cas motioned to Jack, a ‘come on’ gesture to the Nephilim boy, and they left Bobby to his reading. Jack trailed after his uncle, distracted. He was… apprehensive about his next training session with his cousin. He wanted to learn, get a better grip on his powers, but it was clear that his family did not like him spending time with Trisha. Regardless, Jack thought to himself, he would continue being Trisha’s student until he knew everything about his grace, and could control it as he pleased. 

Cas turned to him, after they are out of earshot of Bobby or anyone else. “We will say goodbye to Dean and Sam, and then we will leave,” Castiel said, and Jack blinked at him in surprise. 

“But,” Jack protested, confused, “We still have 48 minutes until we have to meet Trisha.” Castiel looked at his young nephew and grinned. “It is always good to be prepared, Jack,” the angel said somewhat cryptically. 

Jack tilted his head and frowned, but allowed his uncle to place his hand on Jack’s shoulder. Cas flew the two of them to the mountain, expecting the mountain to be empty. 

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO  
I was watching birds circle in the sky when Castiel and Jack showed up beside me. I pretended to ignore them, although I was painfully aware of their movements. I stared up at the birds, and allowed the boys to talk first. 

Cas showed his hand first. “Shall we go?” He asked, somewhat tersely. I grinned and turned to them. “Hey, guys! Gotta say, y’all are half an hour early,” I greeted them, turning and grinning at them. Cas looked confounded at my chipper greeting, as did Jack, although Jack obviously wanted to mimic my enthusiasm. Jack sent me back a hesitant grin. 

“So we ready to get this show on the road, boys?” I asked, and they both nodded, Cas solemnly, Jack enthusiastically. His enthusiasm and energy were adorable, but his energy needed to be focused towards learning control.

I stepped between the two of them, and reaching up, placed my hands on their shoulders and flew to the practice planet. Internally, I grouched at how damn tall the two of them were. I was a modest 5’4”, and my uncle and cousin easily stood half a foot above me. I didn’t even let myself think about how damn tall Sam was. 

Cas, Jack and I arrived at the practice world, in front of the chasm like last time. I took a step back, and looked at Jack. “Alright, so yesterday was a little bit of a warm up. We’ll start slow today too. Gotta work you up to things, you know? So how about you try to fly across the chasm, to that weird looking rock. Should be easy as pie.” I said, pointing to a rock across the chasm. Jack stepped forward, and disappeared. 

However, he did not appear next to the weird looking rock across the canyon. 

I waited for Jack to show up next to the rock, but after a solid minute of him not appearing, Cas and I exchanged a concerned look. This was… not great. He should have shown up there, easily. Teleportation while under stress was the difficult task- teleporting a small distance like that, while not in danger, should have been done easily by someone of Jack’s caliber. 

“Jack?” I called, worry lacing my voice. I peered down into the canyon to see if he had miscalculated, and ended up down there instead. Cas looked around a little wildly. “Jack?” Cas mimicked me, a little louder. “Oh, shit,” I cursed under my breath, stressed.   
I felt around for his grace, frantically, but no dice. I couldn’t feel him- he wasn’t anywhere all that close to me. “Fuck,” I muttered under my breath. 

I disappeared off the face of the planet for a second, and searched the entire world for Jack’s presence. I reappeared in front of Castiel. “He’s not on the planet, Cas,” I told him, running my hands through my hair, fearful for my cousin. Cas looked at me with wide eyes, and I have to say I was not the calmest either. “You… you stay here in case he comes back, yeah? I’ll go check earth,” I said hurriedly. 

I flew off in a panic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DUN DUN DUN!   
> Lmao I'm actually posting this on Wednesday, yay to me! Does this have anything to do with all of the assignments I'm putting off? No. (YES.)  
> Let me know what you think! Comments and kudos feed the exhausted beast.


	25. Chapter 25

Jack reappeared on the strange planet at a light summoning from Castiel. Jack glanced around the area, looking for his cousin, before turning to Castiel. “She’s gone?” He asked, a little guiltily. Cas nodded, grim. 

“I do not like this plan, Castiel,” Jack voiced his displeasure, and he looked vastly uncomfortable. “We should not be lying to her. She wants to help me.”

Castiel winced. “I am not happy with this plan either. However, it seems like the best option. I know how to arrive here, now, and I can teach you control.” Castiel said firmly. Jack nodded slowly, still uncertain, but did not argue with his uncle.   
He too was somewhat wary of his cousin, but he believed she had the best for him in mind. It was unfortunate that the men who had assigned themselves as his father figures also had the best for him in mind, but the two parties did not agree on the meaning of ‘best’ for Jack.

He understood, of course, that Trisha was probably the best capable of teaching him- the power that rolled off of her in easy waves was almost impossible not to feel. But his family said she was not to be trusted, and he didn’t want to fight them any more than he already had on that topic. 

He turned to Cas, and they began training similarly to how Jack had trained with Trisha. Cas kept out a metaphorical feeler out for Trisha while Jack practiced controlling his grace. Castiel, somewhat distracted, preoccupied, instructed Jack to repeat the ball practice, first large, and slowly compress it down. Jack obeyed him, and soon had a ball about the sized of a baseball. He felt his grace surge, not liking how tightly he was packing it into the orb. He ignored it and pushed on, forcing it smaller and smaller. 

OOOOOOOOO

I watched them from just beyond the atmosphere of the planet. ‘Assholes,’ I thought internally. How dare they, especially Cas, lie to me like that? Fuming, I watched them. Castiel was a fool if he thought he could train Jack alone. Or train Jack safely at all. And Jack, my innocent cousin, was a damned fool if he thought Cas could train him, period. Jack had bested Cas before, merely through pure strength. I knew that Jack was naïve, but this?

The reason why Chuck told me, personally, to train Jack, was because I was one of like, five beings that could safely-ish help my cousin get a handle on his powers without potentially being wiped from existence. Castiel was not one of the other five, even with granddad’s favoritism towards the seraph, and Castiel’s propensity for coming back from the dead. That trait just seemed to be a quality of the Winchesters and their associates. 

I groaned. Everyone in the Winchester clan, including the dark-haired angel they had taken into the fold, were so stubborn, it frustrated the hell out of me. I just tried to help them, and they constantly undermined me and doubted me, not to mention imprisoned me. Those boys were dumb and thick skulled and were certain that they were right, constantly. The fact that they still thought that they were always right even after literally starting multiple apocalypses astounded me. 

I watched them intently while Jack focused on concentrating some of his grace into a small, tight ball in his hands. His grace was visibly unstable, wavering in his hands. “Shit,” I muttered to myself, “he’s gonna blow.”

Jack was too focused on impressing Castiel, instead of gathering his grace calmly and evenly. He was piling too much into his hands in uneven bursts, which was going to be disastrous. I continued watching, waiting for Cas to correct Jack. However, Castiel did not correct him, even as the energy in Jack’s hand became smaller, stronger, and more volatile. 

I rolled my eyes. My uncle was stupid, I knew that. He made bad decisions in the name of good and let himself get played a lot. However, having dealt with a lot of raw grace, he should be aware that what Jack was doing was incredibly unsafe and he needed to stop the kid. Like, now. 

I waited for Jack to notice, for Cas to stop him, but neither of them seemed to realize something was wrong. I waited until I saw the grace start to compress in on itself, readying for a large burst outwards that I knew neither of the boys could handle.   
I jumped into action, materializing behind them, and flinging Cas far away as I bracketed Jack with my arms. I pulled some of his grace towards me, to lessen the blast, but I was too late. 

The self-made bomb carefully cradled in Jack’s hand paused its flickering before exploding violently outwards.


	26. Chapter 26

Dean sat on his car, music playing at a slightly louder than usual level as he waited for Sam to pay for gas. He saw Sam’s tall form through the window, saw his brother smiling easily at the gas attendant. She was pretty, brunette and lithe, the type of girl Dean would have flirted with ten years earlier. Now, though, Dean watched passively, waiting for Sam to finish up the transaction. 

Sam gave the girl one last flirtatious smile and walked out the door, hoisting two coffees, a newspaper, and the change triumphantly. Dean grinned back at his brother, silently taking the coffee cup and drinking deeply. Dean sat his coffee on the hood of the Impala, and Sam handed him the paper. “The case is in the next town over, but this area is small enough that this paper covers it for them,” he told Dean, leaning on the sleek black car, next to his brother. 

Dean snapped the paper open and skimmed for the article about the murders, seeing if there were any more details in the paper than in the police report Dean held. “No new details,” Dean sighed, and handed the paper back to Sam. 

Sam sighed. “Who are we going as?” The boys walked to the back of the Impala, and Dean grabbed their box of fake ID’s from the trunk, and rifled through it. He tossed Sam their U.S. Marshalls ID’s and grinned. ”Hey there, Agent Helders,” Dean said with a cheeky tilt to his head. Sam rolled his eyes and replied, “Agent Isaak.” 

The boys climbed back in the Impala, badges in their pockets, and drove to the cheapest motel in the area. They parked in the lot, and Dean went inside the lobby of the motel to arrange for a room while Sam crossed the street to the diner adjacent from the not-quite pay-by-the-hour establishment.

Dean grinned at the man behind the desk, a little blankly. “Hi there,” he said, sliding his fake ID and associated credit card across the desk. “Single room, double queens, please.” The man, clearly bored, only glanced briefly at Dean’s ID before swiping the credit card and paying more attention to the computer than his customer. The bored hotel worker slid Dean two keys after the false credit card went through, and turned back to his phone. 

Dean snorted to himself, and joined his brother in the diner across the street. Dean tossed his brother his key, and Sam glanced up at him before returning to his laptop. 

“Found Wi-Fi, I see,” Dean said, and Sam nodded. “No new bodies, the trail has gone cold. No suspects other than a janitor guy who ended up being the third victim. Locals think it’s a series of animal attacks, but I’m still betting on vampire,” Sam told him gravely. Dean sighed. 

“How do you want to do this?” Dean asked. Sam glanced back up at his brother. “You take the morgue and police station, I’ll start interviewing the victims’ families?”

Dean nodded, and stood, having solidified the plan with Sam. “I’ll text Cas, too,” Dean said. “You know, keep him updated and all.” Sam quirked his eyebrow, but said nothing. However, Sam was pretty sure that wherever Cas was he probably wouldn’t have a cell signal. Dean ignored his brother making a brief, weird face and left. 

OOOOOOOOOOOO

I sat up slowly, a loud ringing in my ears. I groaned, and winced as I felt my grace slowly pull back together. The explosion had warped my grace severely, but I was lucky. Had I been a normal angel, my grace would have been scattered and damaged to the point of no recognition, no return. 

I had been thrown a significant distance from the blast- the ground where it occurred gaping with a new crater. The crater was deep enough that I could not see the bottom from where I sat, and smoke blurred my vision slightly. 

Some of the smoke was coming from me- my shirt, actually. Embers burned brightly on the arms and chest of my long-sleeved shirt, and I pulled it off quickly, throwing it on the ground and extinguishing the shirt. I patted myself down, making sure no other coals were burning holes into my clothes. I looked down onto the shirt I had thrown to the ground- it was burned and dirty, beyond repair. I sighed, and summoned myself up a tank top, if only to cover myself some before I went to search for the boys. I was wearing a sports bra, so I hadn’t been showing anything scandalous, but Chuck knows how much angels, especially Cas, were awkward about that sort of thing. 

I sent out feelers for the boys as I pulled on the tank top, and picked larger bits of charred grass out of my hair. I felt Cas first, unsurprisingly. I fully expected Jack to have been just as far flung I was- but I at least had been thrown in the direction that I had sent Cas. 

I flew to Cas, ignoring how my grace protested as it slowly knit itself back together. He was laying prone, and was just barely conscious. I knelt beside him, and without prompting checked on how he was- merely stunned, and quite upset the more awake he became. He scowled up at me, confused and unhappy, and I stared back down at him, unimpressed. 

“Really, Cas?” I huffed, leaning back on my heels. “You thought that you, ex ‘Most Wanted’ of Heaven, former ‘God,’ the Winchester’s angel, could take this on, on your own?” I paused, to see if he would say anything. Cas just coughed weakly, and turned on his side. Clearly the blast had affected him, too.

“I told you, Cas, I told all y’all that God, you know, your maker, your father, told me to do this? That I was the one supposed to teach Jack? I am one of the only things on this planet that can teach the kid. So you, teachin’ Jack, especially not correcting him when he pulls shit like that bomb, even accidentally, especially accidentally? Do you still think that’s the best plan of action?” I lectured him, looking down my nose at him.

I shook my head and scoffed. “That’s not gonna work, bucko. If I’ve told you once then I’ve told you a million times.” I pinned him with a serious look. “But this? This is the last time I’m telling you. I am the only one who can safely teach Jack.”

I stood up, and began to walk away. Cas started to sit up, trying to follow after me, before letting out a groan of protest and dropped back to the ground. I peered back at him. “If I hadn’t figured out you boys had tried to play a nasty trick on me, you, and your grace would be scattered across this planet. That is, if this planet still existed.”

I walked a few paces more, and then flew away to where I felt Jack’s grace. 

He, similarly to Cas, was laid sprawled out semi-conscious on the ground, groaning. I stood beside him, arms crossed, unimpressed. I gave him a once over, but did nothing as he curled in on himself. 

“Sup, kid?” I said flatly. He groaned. “Real smart idea, Jack. Although I’m thinking it was the Peanut Gallery’s idea, yeah?” He nodded through clenched teeth. I rolled my eyes. “Y’all are fools. Fuckin’… idiots! I swear to granddad if y’all would just listen to me all of our fuckin’ lives would be so much easier.” I pointed to Jack. “That shit you pulled? The ball? Cas should’ve stopped you. But you should’ve noticed! But instead you were so wrapped up in impressing our dear old uncle. But you could’ve killed him, being so… irresponsible!” I nearly growled in frustration. My eyes and grace flared, and Jack watched me as I paced.

He winced. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly, averting his eyes. I scoffed, and snapped him and Castiel back to the bunker. 

They both disappeared, and I immediately sank to my knees and cradled my head in my hands. Tears welled in my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. I sat back on my heels indefinitely, and took peace in the quiet thrum of the ground, the natural processes, uninterrupted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double feature this wednesday! and yes, it still is wednesday my time... barely. I know I've been harping about finals a lot but they're still not over and they're killing me. I wanna go home and see my dog. hopefully in the downtime I'll be able to work on this some more, I've been falling behind a bit.   
> anyway, lemme know what you think! are you still liking this?


	27. Chapter 27

Cas and Jack showed up right outside the bunker as Bobby was walking out of it. Bobby startled, and had twin guns pulled on them before either angel reacted. Both of the angels merely blinked blankly at the gun pointed at their respective heads, knowing unless they were loaded with angel-blade bullets they would do nothing. 

Bobby grunted once he registered that the two men in front of him were friendly, and grumpily put his guns away. “The hell you boys doin,’ scarin’ me like that? Thought y’all were off with that Nephilim girl anyhow,” Bobby muttered. Cas and Jack merely stared at him, and Bobby huffed, and pulled the bunker door a little wider. “Well, you boys come on in, I suppose.” 

Jack and Cas merely walked past him silently into the depths of the bunker, not all that visibly shaken, but obviously upset to whoever knew them. 

Bobby stared after them, concerned, but he did not follow or speak to the two boys. The grizzled hunter sighed to himself, and turned back to the thick, outer bunker door, locking it. He walked out to one of the few cars parked outside the bunker, a dilapidated, older Chevy, and headed into town. As he drove, he listened to music, pushing the worries that being an adopted father to hunters and angels and half angels brought out of his mind for the moment. 

He did have groceries to buy, after all. 

OOOOOOOOOOOOO

The Winchester brothers sat panting on the floor of the old, dusty barn. Dean sighed heavily, pushing the still slightly chewing head of a vampire away from him with the tip of his machete. Sam echoed his sigh, and leaned his head back onto the wood beam he was propped against. 

“We did good, Sammy,” Dean said, triumph and exhaustion warring in his voice. Sam nodded tiredly, looking a little worse for wear, paler than normal and a thin trickle of blood creeping out from his hairline. The two brothers rested for a while longer, before they collected themselves and hoisted their tired bodies up and towards the Impala. 

They stowed their gear in the trunk, and prepared the barn for the cover fire they had to set, to cover their tracks. After soaking the barn in gasoline, the two hunters managed to limp their way to the car, and sat down in her heavily. Dean looked to Sam, who gave his older brother an exhausted, satisfied smile. Dean nodded, and turned the keys, and the Impala’s engine purred to life. 

They drove off as the barn behind them slowly caught fire, and started to blaze after them. 

OOOOOOOOOO

I sat quietly on the abandoned planet, the wind running silently through my hair. It whistled lightly through the chasm before me, as I stared down towards the bottom. A human couldn’t see to the bottom, as even with my half-angel eyes I couldn’t see the defined details of the far below chasm floor. 

My unshed tears had long dried, but the low thrum of anger and pure exasperation still sat hard in my belly. The chasm shuddered, and widened even more. I let out a half smile, fond of the deep scar running long across the planet. The canyon was in tune with me, and responded easily to my fluctuating emotions, especially while I was near it. 

I sat cross legged, staring down into the depths of the thing I had created, for an indeterminable amount of time.

Eventually, I grew tired of merely staring down, and started manipulating my grace, pulling faces from memory and creating facades of them in the air of the chasm, or widening then narrowing the canyon I sat before. I entertained myself in such manner for some time, but eventually tired even of that. 

A presence sat across the gaping wound of the earth, also staring down to its depths. My breath caught in my throat- God. Chuck. The Almighty One. Abba. Father. Whatever he called himself nowadays, he sat across from me, the deep ravine amplifying the distance between us. 

Tired eyes looked up at me. He seemed to have aged incredibly since the last time I had seen him. Now that I recognized him, he no longer concealed his power, letting it radiate off of him. I sucked in a breath- it had been centuries since I had been in his presence, and being close to him now was like a balm to my frazzled emotions and wounded grace. 

I smiled, half full of relief and the other half a smirk. “I heard you joined a band, Pop-pop,” I said. Chuck let out a huff of air and let out an unrepentant grin. “Yeah,” God said in his raspy voice. “Indie rock?” I asked him, quirking my eyebrow. “Really?”  
“I wanted to play the guitar, Pálheiður,” my grandfather said, using my full name in a slightly chastising manner. He quirked his eyebrow back at me. “Besides, you spent some time performing as well, you know.” 

I raised my hands in mock surrender. “I mean, yeah, sure, Yahweh, but I never did indie rock,” I teased him. “Give it time,” Chuck said softly, suddenly distracted. I rolled my eyes, unconvinced, and let him check his God-mail or whatever held his attention for the moment. I focused my attention back on making faces in the canyon, settling on one of the faces of my old lovers. 

Granddad eventually tuned back in, and his eyes caught on the face floating in midair. “She was good to you,” he said softly, almost noncommittal. I nodded, eyes prickling with tears. “She’s in Heaven, you know,” he consoled me, and I nodded, sniffing. “Still miss her, sometimes,” I replied, barely above a whisper. “You made them so fragile.”

God smiled, clearly in the middle of a memory. “Yeah,” he said, voice still raspy. “Not you, though.” He paused, and his voice grew more firm, serious. “Not Jack, either.” 

Aha. That’s why he was here. I couldn’t say that I was surprised- my grandfather wasn’t one to make surprise visits, especially not while he was no doubt still working things out with his sister. And wasn’t I glad I had avoided that whole debacle.  
I sighed, and looked away. “He is strong, but he’s so… fucking stubborn. Him and the Winchester boys don’t trust me, Gramps, and that’s exhausting.” Another person would say that I whined at him, but I would describe what I said to him as merely stating the facts.

God smiled, and I could feel the warmth of his smile from across the chasm. “Now you know how I feel, Pálheiður. Not many people trust me, either. Or believe in me, or listen to me.” 

I cocked an eyebrow. “Chuck, you haven’t been around in a while for most people. It’s hard, here. You want humanity to learn to be on their own, but you planted an idea of… you in their heads. Someone so powerful, who loves them, who can save them and make all the stuff that hurts go away. But bad shit happens. I know you know bad shit happens. These humans know it too. They, naturally, want someone, something to stop all the bad shit.” 

God sent me a sharp glance, and I put my hands up in acquiescence. He seemed uncomfortable, but remained quiet. I stared at the shifting face suspended in the deep ravine, as did my grandfather. 

He spoke up, voice gentle. “The thing about being not fragile, about being more powerful than most, Pálheiður, is that humans, and angels, and those in between, will come to rely on you. They will demand for you to save them, to protect them, to be a wonderful and powerful god all of the time.” God paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts. 

“It’s exhausting, especially when they are greedy and ungrateful. So either you decide to protect them or… you don’t. You help them… or you don’t. It’s a decision you make. And the thing is? It’s up to you to make it. I asked you to help teach Jack just because… I can’t,” God admitted.

I sighed, but let him have his reasons. “I’ll teach him, pops. If only because that way he can’t accidentally blow up your favorite rock,” I said gently, with a hint of teasing in my voice. God huffed out a gentle laugh, and nodded. He caught my eye, a kind expression on his face. “You’re doing good, kiddo. Keep it up, yeah?” He prompted me, and I shot him two thumbs up. “Go in peace, Pálheiður,” He told me, and then he vanished.

I rolled my eyes. “You know I go by Trisha now, right?” I called after him, the snark in my voice only half serious. I did feel much better after talking with him though. I felt more at peace, more centered. A literal blessing from God could do that to you, I guess. 

However, I missed his presence already. I could understand why the angels fell to disorganization after God left- a calm, powerful aura like his definitely left things to be desired after it left. I flew back to the Earth. I didn’t fly directly to my home, where my father waited for me. I went back to the fjord I fled to after I had escaped the Winchester’s bunker. 

It was the place on Earth that I felt God’s presence most keenly- being around him was wonderful, but it was something I needed to come down from slowly. I sat down on the edge of the fjord and breathed in the frigid, salty air. The pounding of the ocean against the tall walls of the fjord resonated at my ears, and I sat quietly, letting the crashing waves wash away what little frustration I had left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I'm sooo sorry that its been legit over a month since I updated last! I hope y'all had a safe and happy new year, and fun holidays! I have a friend/ kinda datemate visting, it's great! Once I go back to college my updates will be def more consistent. Still unbeta'd, comments and kudos feed the beast!


	28. Chapter 28

The Winchester boys sat in the Impala quietly for a moment, letting the last notes of a song fade away before opening the doors and stepping into the garage. Sam took long, lanky steps to close the bunker’s garage doors. Dean hoisted their duffle bags from the trunk of his Baby, and closed the back firmly. Sam rejoined his brother quickly, and took half of the bags from his brother. They stepped in tandem up the stairs, and parted ways as they each headed to their respective rooms. 

Jack was waiting in Sam’s room, perched on the end of Sam’s king bed, and when Sam caught sight of him, the tall hunter jumped in surprise before relaxing. “Jack, hey!” Sam exclaimed. Jack looked up, startled. “Sam, hello!” Jack replied, clearly having not expected Sam back as early as he was. 

“Hey, Jack,” Sam said again, and set down his bags on the floor next to his bed. Sam shed his jacket, and threw it in his dirty laundry basket, waiting for Jack to speak. Jack stayed stubbornly quiet, and Sam picked up his bags, and set them next to Jack on his bed. 

Sam was determined to let Jack speak first, and started to unpack his bags, setting aside his guns on a side table, and pitching more of his clothes into his hamper. Sam picked up a rather grungy shirt of his, covered in dirt, blood, and grass stains. Sam sighed, being particularly fond of that shirt, and tossed it on the side table, to try and scrub the stains out of it later. 

Jack finally spoke up after Sam was halfway through unpacking his bag. “Sam… I made a mistake.” Sam turned and looked at him, concerned. “What sort of mistake, Jack?” Sam asked, voice quiet and nonthreatening, but still worried.   
Jack winced, and Sam moved to sit beside him. Jack let him, but flinched away when Sam put a large hand on the boy’s shoulder, trying to comfort him. Jack looked at Sam guiltily. “I… nearly… accidentally… killed Cas.” 

Sam’s eyes widened. “Is Cas… are you ok?” Jack nodded, a sad, worried look in his eyes. “We are both fine. Trisha saved us, saved me, from the mistake I made.” Jack said the words quietly, guiltily. Sam made an aborted, worried noise, and scanned Jack over. Jack seemed to curl in on himself. 

“What happened, Jack? You can talk to me, you know.” Sam cajoled the young Nephilim next to him. Jack winced again. “I’m afraid that if I tell you… you will be afraid of me.” Sam sighed, and looked at Jack seriously. “Jack, I’ve dealt with a lot over the years. I’m not scared of much anymore. Now tell me what happened.”

“Castiel was concerned about Trisha teaching me, but knew that she had a point, that I needed to practice control away from humans. So, we decided to trick her. I was practicing teleporting. I disappeared, and did not come back, to worry Trisha. She searched the planet from me, and then looked for me on Earth, and other places. While she was gone Castiel and I started to practice. I was controlling my grace, but it… exploded. Trisha came back, and tried to stop me, but she wasn’t able to get there in time. My grace exploded, and all of us got thrown.” 

As Jack finished speaking, Sam sighed, and dragged his hand over his face, clearly tired. Sam stayed quiet for a couple seconds, clearly processing it. “But everyone’s fine?” Sam asked eventually. Jack nodded, but looked uncertain. “I didn’t have much time with Trisha after the explosion, before she sent us away. She was upset, but I think her grace was hurt,” Jack told Sam, dourly. 

“And Cas?” Sam inquired. Jack tilted his head towards Sam’s doorway. “We both arrived at the bunker safely. I have not felt any damage to his grace, although I have not looked for harm to his grace specifically.” Sam exhaled loudly, stress and exhaustion written over his face. “He’s pretty good about letting us know if he’s hurt in some way. Or we’re good at figuring it out. One of the two,” Sam said wryly. Jack huffed, guilt still heavy on his face. 

Sam placed a hand on Jack’s shoulder, and waited for the boy to look at him before speaking. “You made a mistake. But Cas is fine, and you’re fine, so everything is ok, Jack. You just need to learn from it. And if Trisha continues to teach you after that stunt you pulled, you keep learning from her. Being able to control your powers is important, and as long as Trisha isn’t making you hurt other people to do it, I think it should be fine.”

Jack turned away. “You don’t know what it’s like to not be able to control this… thing inside of you.” Sam looked amused, and quirked an eyebrow as the sentence left Jack’s mouth.   
“Jack, you know my mom,” Sam said, phrasing it like a question. Jack nodded slowly, unsure of where this was going. 

“When I was six months old, a demon snuck into my nursery, dripped his blood into my mouth, and killed Mary when she came to check on me, since I was crying,” Sam told Jack with a schooled face. Jack nodded, knowing this part of the story.   
“My dad dedicated the next twenty-four years of his life to hunting the bastard that did it. When I was nineteen, I left my dad and Dean to go to college, and I didn’t hear much from them until I was twenty-two. My dad had gone missing, Dean couldn’t get a hold of him, or find him, and so Dean came for me to get help. I went with Dean for a couple of days, but I had to get back. I had an interview for a law school I was applying to, and my girlfriend was worried. While I was away, I had a dream that she was killed like my mom was.” Sam said, taking a breath, collecting his thoughts. Jack remained silent, eyes wide. 

“I got back in time for my interview, and I went up to the apartment I shared with my girlfriend. But when I got back… Jess was on the ceiling, and I watched her burn, just like the dream I had.” Sam said quietly. “Dreams like that kept happening- I would see things before they happened. For a while Dean and I blew it off, figuring it was some weird thing. Then we met a couple of other kids like me- weird, unexplained powers, all my age, some with mothers who had been killed like Mary was. We eventually figured out that it was because of the demon blood inside of me. It was inside of the other kids, too. The kids like me were all competitors in some fucked competition- to see who would be the next ruler of Hell, who would lead Hell’s forces in the imminent apocalypse.” Jack still didn’t say anything, taking in everything Sam was saying. 

“I died for the first time; a different contestant, Jake, killed me. Dean sold his soul to bring me back, and for a while we focused on that, ignoring the apocalypse everyone said was nigh. Dean died, killed by hell hounds a year later, as part of his deal to bring me back. While he was gone… I met a demon, named Ruby. She got me hooked on demon blood, to get me stronger, so I could kill Lilith, a demon who was breaking all of the seals, to try and get Lucifer free.” Jack blinked owlishly at the mention of his real father.

“But Ruby didn’t mention that Lilith, her boss, was the final seal, and your dad got free for the first time in a couple thousand years. I was addicted to demon blood, thinking I could save the world and enjoying all the powers I had. The more blood I drank, the stronger I was, the more power I thought I had. But the more addicted I got, the more blood I drank, the less in control of myself, my true self, I was.” Sam admitted. 

“I’m not saying Trisha is Ruby in this situation. But trust me when I say I can relate to having issues controlling the powers you have.” Sam finished calmly. Jack nodded, astonished. “Forgive me, Sam, I did not know,” the Nephilim boy apologized softly.   
Sam smiled at Jack. “We don’t talk about it much, Jack, it’s ok. I know I can’t have the whole understanding of what this is like for you, but I have an inkling.” 

Jack nodded. “I am sorry for the loss of your mother and Jess in such a way, Sam.” Sam smiled, a small, bittersweet thing, laden with regret of actions past. “It’s been years. I have mom back. I still miss Jess, sure, but she’s in Heaven, and I’m not sure if we would be right for each other anymore.”

Jack nodded, pretending to understand, but internally he knew he could never quite understand all of what Sam had been through. His soul still shone brightly, even though it was slightly warped and littered with scars. The resiliency of the Winchester boys dawned on the boy for the first time, and he sat quietly in awe of one of the strongest and determined souls in existence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all! I'm back at college, so updates shouldn't be so sporadic (although, fair warning. I'm taking 18 credit hours this semester, soooo. may still be sporadic.) i hope y'all have had a good couple months!   
> I'm still unbeta'd, comments and kudos feed the beast!


	29. Chapter 29

Gabriel quietly poofed next to me as I sat atop one of the cliffs of the fjord. “Your uncle and cousin were stupid again?” My father asked sympathetically, offering me a small, hard candy in support. I huffed, still annoyed, and took the candy. “You have no idea, pops.” I paused, and swung my legs over the cliff’s edge. 

I kicked back and forth, and stared down, watching the foam froth on the surface of the water below. “Cas thought that it would be a great idea to try and trick me away and teach Jack on his own.” I said dourly, frowning. Gabriel snorted out an unamused laugh. “How did that go for them?” He asked, intrigued and partially offended on my behalf. 

“Well, Jack nearly blew himself and Cas up like three minutes after I left, so…” I trailed off, annoyed. 

Gabriel let out a genuine laugh this time. “Three minutes? That has to be a record.” I nodded. “Yeah, Cas didn’t stop Jack at, like, all, so I had to swing in at the last possible second and prevent them from becoming atomic particles.” Gabriel sighed. “That sounds about right. Are you ok?” He asked me seriously, and looked me over appraisingly. 

I fluffed out my grace for him to examine, and his grace lightly ran over mine, healing minor damage, and straightening some of the stray feathers of my wings. He may have been in captivity and drained for a couple years, but an archangel he was still one of the most powerful beings that remained on the earth. Even as weak and powered down as he was, he could still easily take on most monsters and not even break a sweat. I sighed in relief. I hadn’t been in a tremendous amount of pain or discomfort, and the damage my grace had received from the blast easily would have healed with time, but Gabriel healed me easily. 

I shook out my wings, and tucked them away, much more comfortable now. “Thanks, dad,” I said softly. He sat down next to me, legs also hanging over the cliff, and I leaned against him. We sat on the edge of the fjord, and enjoyed the sheer power of nature for a while. 

OOOOOOOOOOOOO

Dean dropped his bags on the floor of his room, and flopped onto his bed with a grunt. The hunt with Sammy had gone well, and he was glad they were able to get out of the bunker for a couple of days. 

In another week, one of the hunters from the alternate world would have been able to handle the case, but for now they were still getting up to date on this world. Mary and Sam had been handling their education. But Dean hadn’t wanted his mom to get all that involved in the whole ‘Trisha Debacle,’ as Sam was calling it now. Sam had agreed, and Mary hadn’t argued with them too much, and while Sam was handling Trisha, Mary had taken on the full responsibility of teaching the alternate world hunters. She was, however, a little upset that they hadn’t updated her recently, and while Dean was on the case in Indiana, he received a flurry of texts, wanting updates on both the case and the Trisha Debacle. 

Dean had responded when he had the time, but he had no doubt that now he was back he would get a disappointed look or two from his mom. He hated that he disappointed her, even now, but he was thrilled that he had a mom to get disappointed looks from. 

Mary, as if summoned by his thoughts, appeared in the open doorway. “Hi, honey,” she said. Dean grunted out a “Hey, mom,” still laying spread out on his bed, enjoying the memory foam of his own mattress.   
“May I come in?” Mary asked, hoisting up a plate. “I brought you some food, in case you were hungry.”

“That’s great, mom. Yeah, come on in. Food sounds great,” Dean said, tiredly. Mary smiled, and sat on the foot of Dean’s bed, and after her son had shuffled into a sitting position, she handed him the sandwich she had prepared him. 

“How’d the hunt go?” she asked. Dean grunted again, mouth full of sandwich. He swallowed quickly, and before taking another huge bite out of the sandwich told her, “Went well. Nest of vamps, pretty small, mainly baby vamps. Nothing Sammy and I couldn’t handle. They were hiding out in a barn on the fringes of town, and we managed to save a person they were hunting.”

Mary smiled softly. Dean looked over at her. “How was it here? Everything with all our refugees go ok?” Mary sighed. “It’s going ok, some of them are adjusting better than others. I was thinking, before all of them leave, we could set up a phone tree, keep track of everyone that way. Maybe with the other hunters, too.” 

Dean cocked his head. “Like, the hunters from our world?” he asked. Mary nodded. “I know John was wary of other hunters, for good reason sometimes… but we have something good here. A place where people can rest, where they can stock up on stuff, and they can get advice,” Mary said, a wistful tone in her voice. 

Dean sighed. “I know, mom. We haven’t really had a place like that since the Roadhouse burned down, and Ellen and Jo died. But not many other hunters like us. To them, the Winchesters are supposed to be avoided, and for good reason.”   
Mary looked at her oldest son, a soft, undefinable look in her eyes. “Dean, you and Sam have done so much good.” Dean scoffed. “We’ve fixed what we’ve broken, but with the help of other people. So many people have died for us, mom, and the rest of the hunters know this.”

Mary made an unhappy noise. “Well, I’ll talk to Sam, and then I’ll set up the phone tree. Eat your food, and get some rest, ok, honey?” She pinned Dean with a firm stare. Dean acquiesced, and got back to his food. 

Mary left the room, and sighed heavily once she was out of earshot. It broke her heart to think of how little her boys thought of themselves. It made her angry, furious even, that her husband was one of the reasons why her boys, especially Dean, didn’t think that they were important, that they had a penchant for self-sacrifice. Because hunters always died for ‘the greater good.’ She rolled her eyes. When she saw John again, she would have words for that man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all! one more chapter is up, yay!   
> I haven't been making much progress on new stuff recently, with mental health and school and the like. I will continue to try to keep updating once a week on wednesdays, but it may eventually become once every other week?  
> I have been editing the old stuff some, and instead of new chapters i may update chapters on some weeks? I'll let you know (no major changes will come from these edits, they'll mainly fix minor spelling errors/ odd wording)  
> I've also been working on little 'behind the scenes' blurbs that won't make it in to the actual story itself, altho they will be canon for my lil verse. (just to help keep this verse alive while i struggle with plot and life and stuff lmao) Lemme know if you want to read them!   
> Still unbeta'd, comments and kudos feed the beast. I hope y'all have a great week!


	30. Chapter 30

I wrestled with Gabriel, grunting indignantly. He had stolen my phone, the asshole, and had been swiping through it, and taking funny pictures on it when I had stumbled upon him, looking for it. That’s what I got for living with someone who moonlighted as a trickster god for centuries, I supposed. 

It was an unspoken agreement that we didn’t used our grace, so we didn’t trash the house entirely as we wrestled. But that still left a lot of tricks up for grabs, and I went in for the kill. 

My father, quite tragically for him, was terribly ticklish on his vessel’s sides. Fortunately, I wasn’t ticklish, so as he tried to reciprocate, I merely laughed and tickled the powerful archangel into quasi-submission. I snatched my phone out his hands, finally, and stuck my tongue out at him. 

He snorted, and stuck his tongue back out at me. He summoned me a sucker as a peace offering, and I smiled and accepted it. 

Gabriel was nearly back at full power, and I was relieved. He had been drained by Asmodeus for only Granddad knows how long. Of course, my father also knew, once he got out and was able to do the mental math, but that doesn’t mean he told me. But I could tell that the draining had been long enough, and serious enough, that Gabriel had pulled on some of my grace to help bolster his. To help him survive it. 

I felt guilty, that I hadn’t known, that I hadn’t helped my father any more than being a grace reserve for him to pull from. But I knew that wherever Gabriel had been was heavily warded, and when he didn’t reach out to me, I wasn’t worried, as his habit of checking in didn’t really stick to a schedule of any form. 

I returned my thoughts to my phone, and scrolled through the literally hundreds of selfies my father had taken on my phone. I deleted the majority of them, especially as most of them were blurry as he ran from me. I saved a few, and slipped my phone securely back in my pocket. 

It then occurred to me that I should probably give one of the Winchester clan my phone number- it was impossible to trace, and if the boys couldn’t make it to one of the training sessions, I figured they should have a method of contacting me. 

I rolled my eyes- just because I should didn’t mean I wanted to. I sighed, and summoned a notebook and a pen. I scrawled out a quick note reading ‘Jack, get a phone if you don’t already have one. Put this number in it’ and wrote my phone number in neat numbers underneath it. I sent it off, knowing it would appear on a table somewhere in the bunker, where at least one of the Winchester menaces would find it. 

OOOOOOOOOOO

Mary Winchester sat in front of a table, with all of the phones that her boys had accumulated over the years. She went through each one individually, pulling numbers from each of the phones, checking with her laptop which phone numbers were still active, with her boys and a few of her own hunter contacts who was still alive. 

She was in the middle of inputting a number into her Excel spreadsheet- something that had confused her, at first, but after Sam explained it to her she had to acknowledge just how helpful it was- when a piece of paper, neatly folded in half, appeared in front of her screen. 

Mary startled, and had stood up and away from the desk, hand on the handle of the knife she carried everywhere before she registered exactly what it was. She approached it slowly, and pulled her knife from its sheath. Mary prodded the note gently with the tip of her blade, and after the knife didn’t rust, explode, or do anything else unpleasant, she hesitantly picked it up. 

Unfolding the note, she saw that it was addressed to Jack, from an unspecified sender. She knew that Trisha had been communicating to Jack and the angel via note sending, and made note of the phone number written on the paper in the Excel file. The blonde hunter set the note aside, and resumed her task. 

After a solid hour or so, Mary had collected all of the numbers off of the phones spread out in front of her, and she took a break to stretch and eat. The note caught her eye, again, and wondered what exactly she should do with it. 

It was addressed to Jack, so it would make its way to him in time. Mary, however, debated whether or not she should give the note to her boys or Castiel first, just so they could all have a contact number for the Nephilim girl.

She sighed, and stretched, and left the note on the table, to come back to later. She walked off, and when she returned the note was gone from the table. 

OOOOOOOOOOO

I snapped myself to the couch, getting a yelp from my father who was sprawled across half of it. He glared at me playfully, and then after I was situated on the couch, he stretched out his legs across my lap. We sat in silence for a while, a book in my lap, a slowly growing pile of candy wrappers in Gabe’s. 

The comfortable silence was broken by my phone vibrating. I frowned, pulling up my phone, screen lit up with an unknown number. And they were calling me, not texting me. I frowned deeper; even I, a being around five hundred years old, knew that texting was the way to go, unless one was literally dying. Knowing whoever was on the other side of the phone was likely an awkward angel who somehow didn’t get that update, but still could potentially be dying, I answered it. 

“Y’ello?” I said, pinning my phone between my ear and shoulder, still primarily focused on my book. “Is this Trisha?” A deep, gravelly voice asked me, one I didn’t recognize immediately. 

I tensed, and closed my book with a snap. I stood, dislodging my father’s legs. He made an indignant noise, but I made a dismissive hand gesture at him. My father, ever a mature, millennia old, all powerful being, stuck his tongue out at me, but quieted, returning to his candy pile. 

“And who do I have the distinct displeasure of speaking with?” I asked, my greeting tense. 

There was an undistinguishable noise made on the other side of the phone. “It is Castiel.” 

I rolled my eyes. “Cas, dude, you know that texting is a thing, right?” There was a brief silence. “Yes, I am familiar with texting,” He said seriously. I huffed out a laugh. Angels, man. They were all so serious, so stuffy, especially this specific uncle. 

“Awesome, dude. Now, unless you’re in the middle of dying, you and Jack only text me, ok?” I told him, and hung up the phone with a click.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> am i putting off writing a five page paper due tomorrow? no. (yes)  
> enjoy!


	31. Chapter 31

Castiel listened to the Nephilim on the other side of the phone, and realized she was going to hang up. “Trisha, wai-,” He began to protest. However, Trisha had already ended the phone call. Castiel sighed heavily. 

Humans, Castiel noticed, full and half ones, seemed to love ending phone calls prematurely. Castiel could text her, he supposed, but he found phone calls much more efficient. But the humans he knew definitely seemed to agree with the Nephilim girl- phone calls were primarily for emergencies only. 

Dean was the only one he called regularly, which he found odd. Castiel had noticed that Dean texted virtually everyone else, but never seemed to complain when Castiel called him. Cas just assumed that Dean knew he preferred calling, even if the concept of leaving voicemails baffled the angel. 

Castiel pondered the oddities of humans and those of partial human stock a while longer, and the turned on his heel. The angel walked through the bunker halls, footsteps echoing quietly. He heard the rustle of a couple dozen beings living within one large space, coexisting peacefully. Castiel flew to Jack, after locating the Nephilim boy quickly. 

Jack was holed up in his room, sitting at his desk with papers spread out in front of him, but when Castiel appeared in the room, Jack set aside whatever he was doing. “Castiel.” “Jack.” “Hello.” “Hello.” They sat in silence for a beat, having exchanged pleasantries fitting for two beings of Heaven. 

“Trisha sent you her phone number, so you may contact her as needed. However, in order to effectively contact her, we should acquire you a phone of your own,” Castiel told his nephew. Jack perked up at this, excited at the prospect of his own phone.   
“I have not acquired a phone of my own in some time. We should enlist Dean’s help,” Castiel said, and Jack nodded along, very agreeable. The two beings of celestial intent flew to Dean’s room, where the hunter lay on his bed, eyes closed while he listened to something on his headphones. Cas assumed it was music from his childhood- Dean, Castiel knew, had a troubled childhood but found peace in the music he had grown up hearing. 

Castiel blinked, unused to seeing the hunter relatively at peace, and Jack paused a step behind his uncle. The blue eyed angel looked loathe to go bother the green eyed hunter, one who was so constantly in distress looked like for once he wasn’t carrying a huge load on his shoulders. Castiel tilted his head towards the door, gesturing to his nephew that they should leave Dean in peace, and the two men quietly exited the room, leaving Dean none the wiser to their brief appearance in his room. 

OOOOOOOOOOO

I was sprawled out on my bed on a laptop I had acquired when my father knocked on the doorframe of my room. “Yeah?” I asked, and Gabriel hung in the doorway, nervous. I saw his cheerful façade go up, and winced internally. I knew whatever he was going to say next he thought I wouldn’t like. 

“Kiddo, it’s been great, you know, hanging out, getting some daddy-daughter time,” at this he wiggled his eyebrows in a playful, mock-lascivious manner, but he sobered quickly as he continued speaking, “but… Kid, I gotta go.” He averted his face, and I winced. So that’s what the bad news was. 

I waited for him to look back to me, and I met his eyes, face calm but my mental state anything but. “Sure, dad, but why?” I asked him, bracing for a bullshit reason. 

He sighed. “I’m nervous about you being so close to the Winchesters. Those ass-clowns don’t scare me, but the drama, and all the Big Bads that come with them? They’ve nearly ended the world a dozen times now, and I’ve died one too many times for them. I’m all on board for my little nephew not exploding the planet, but I don’t like you being so close to the guys that have basically told every other possible parental figure for Jack to fuck off, since they’re the ones that have screwed me over a bunch of time.”   
Gabriel sighed. “I’ve had some facetime with Jack, he’s a good kid. The Winchesters… I dunno, kid, I’m kinda scared for you.”

I smiled at him weakly. Honestly, I was a little scared for me too. The Winchesters didn’t have a great track record, and Jack had some practice using his grace before I got assigned. If I really wanted to, I could cut and run. Gramps would be pissed at me, but he wasn’t really ever around frequently enough to be mad at me and let me know about it. 

“I’ll try one or two more times to train Jack. He’s learning fast, so I won’t have to stick around long before he knows how to truly control himself. I’ll keep my distance, and then leave when I need to,” I told my father. I placed my hand on his shoulder. “If you need to leave, I won’t stop you. Do try and check in next time you get nabbed by a demon or some demi-gods or another reincarnated brother of yours try to murder you, yeah?” I asked him, pinning him with a look. Gabriel smiled at me, a gentle, indescribable emotion filling his eyes. He pulled me into a tight hug, and then took a step back. He gave me one last look, before snapping away.

I stood in the center of my room, and let out a heavy sigh. However, my phone buzzed, shaking me out of a beginning of a downward self-spiral.

UNKNOWN NUMBER: can we meet?  
UNKNOWN NUMBER: It’s jack.   
UNKNOWN NUMBER: hello. 

I smirked to myself, and saved his number to my phone. 

Me: Hey, kiddo. Glad to see you got my message. When/where were you thinking?  
Jack: That diner near the bunker. 30 minutes?

I texted back a quick response, and flew to the diner Jack was talking about. I like to be prepared, scout out the site beforehand. I appeared behind the bulk of the building, in a copse of trees. I didn’t see the Winchester’s car, or any of the boys. I stepped out onto the asphalt, and heard a click. 

I froze. Out from behind a tree, stepped out one Mary Winchester, hair pulled back and gun trained on me. I quirked my eyebrow on her, but raised my hands slowly. I used a flicker of my grace to disengage the gun without alerting Mary. No need to get shot at when I didn’t need to be. 

“Are you Trisha?” Mary asked me. I sent her a knowing smirk. “I should hope so, Mary Winchester, otherwise you just pulled a gun on a civilian. Also, you’re not Jack,” I told her, mock-upset that she lied to me. Honestly, though, I did see something like this happening. Just with a different, more green-eyed Winchester.

She sent me a smirk right back. “I saw you appear from nowhere. I knew you weren’t a civilian. I just wanted to make sure I had the right angel.”

“Aww, Mary, you think I’m an angel? I’m flattered. That’s so kind of you,” I grinned unrepentantly at her. She didn’t deign that with a response. “I heard the archangel Gabriel is your father. Is it true?” My eyes widened nearly imperceptibly. 

“Well, I don’t really go shouting it from the rooftops. Brings trouble, you know?” I said, looking around warily. Mary nodded, eyes narrowed. “Is it true you want to help Jack? No strings, no conditions?” She demanded, gesturing her gun a little, emphatic. 

I rolled my eyes, exasperated. “You guys have serious trust issues. Like, all of you. I am on a mission from God. Real God. My grandfather, big-G god. I, like Jack, am a super powerful Nephilim. God taught me, I teach Jack. Pay it forward, that sort of thing.” I explained to her, slowly, as if explaining it to a child. 

“Teach him what, exactly?” Mary asked me, eyes made of cold, blue steel. “Control. Jack’s powers are controlled by his emotions, but he needs to learn to be able to use them anytime, not just when he’s pissed or scared.” I told her, expression wide open, aggravation clear. 

“So,” I asked her, tired of the routine, “you want to get lunch?”


	32. Chapter 32

Jack and Castiel stood in the back of the store, peering at the variety of burner phones. Both of them seemed a little overwhelmed at all of the variety. A sales associate walked up to them, with a forced smile. “Hi, how can I help you today?”   
Castiel and Jack both broke their very intense gazes from the phone selection, and focused it on the unfortunate sales associate, who balked underneath the unexpected attention. 

Jack returned the girl’s smile. “I want to buy a… burner phone. I have money.” The sales associate’s face flickered into a brief look of ‘...what?’ before it was schooled back into a pleasant grin.

“Well, as you can see, we have a lot of options. Are you looking for anything specific?” She chirped. Jack nodded, slowly. “One that can text… and make phone calls,” the Nephilim said, like this was an unusual request. 

The sales associate blinked at him, and quirked her head. “Well,” she said, a little slowly, believing Jack to be high, dumb, or both. “That would include all of them. Is there anything else you would like?” 

Jack shook his head, after glancing to Castiel to make sure there was nothing else they required. “No, that is all.”

The sales associate shook her head, and gestured for the two men to follow her to the counter. Jack picked up a small, unassuming flip phone, and followed the girl. Castiel followed behind his nephew, and the sales associate would have been concerned about the two larger males behind her if both of them hadn’t had a ‘lost puppy’ air about them. 

The sales associate quickly rung up the transaction, and exhaled thoroughly as they exited the store. She wouldn’t have been surprised if they were stoned, they certainly acted like it, after all. She watched them as the two men walked through the parking lot to an older car- gold, and one that the sales associate legitimately thought looked like a pimp from the nineties would own. She snickered to herself, and then turned back to her tasks. 

OOOOOOOOOO

Let it be said that Mary Winchester was scary, for a human only equipped with a couple of guns and a glare. We sat down at one of the tables of the diner, and Mary looked at me warily. I could tell that underneath the table she had her still-disabled gun pointed at me, but I ignored it. Bringing attention to something that I shouldn’t be immediately aware of would likely not put me in her favor. 

An older waitress with a kind face came up to our table, and she greeted us with a smile and a “What can I get you ladies to drink?” 

I read her nametag and responded with “Water, please, Ms. Ida?” Mary seconded my order, and Ida handed us two lunch menus and departed with a “I’ll be right back, darlins’,” thrown over her shoulder. 

Mary split her time between glaring at me and the menu. I ignored her eye-daggers steadfastly, and picked out what I wanted in relatively short order. “I think I’m gonna get ‘Len’s Large Stack.’ You?” I asked the Winchester mother, acting as if this were a normal conversation between two normal people. 

She, however, seemed to realize the futility of my attempt at normality- since, honestly, how normal could a conversation between the back-from-the-dead mother of the two boys that saved the world and had a hand in saving it herself once or twice, and the 500-ish year old daughter of an archangel and a demigoddess, who was on a literal mission from God to stop her nephew from torching the Earth be?

Mary narrowed her eyes, and lowered her menu. “I think I’m going to go with a ‘Nephilim Head’s Plate,” she said frostily. I sighed, unimpressed. “I don’t see that on the menu, but I bet if it were it would be expensive. And, personally, I would be offended. I am paying, you know, and generally you don’t see me consuming human flesh in front of my guests.”

“You’ve eaten humans before?” Mary demanded, gun cocking underneath the table. I groaned. “You hunters can’t take a joke,” I whined, shoulders sagging dramatically. “No, I have not eaten humans before, jeez. I am part human, you know.” I told her, seriously.

“You’re also part archangel.” Mary said flatly. 

“So?” I demanded. “My dad was a trickster, a player, who occasionally moonlighted as a little g god. Sure, he was a heathen, but eating human flesh was a little farther than he was willing to go. Not even Lucifer, my dear old uncle himself, would eat human flesh.”

Mary’s eyes somehow got narrower. “Why not?”

I laughed drily. “Well, he did think humans were underneath him. Plus, the guy, A- didn’t need to eat, and B- was locked up in a cage for most of the time humanity was around. Don’t think he had the opportunity or the desire, really.”

Ida came back, luckily only overhearing the very last sentence of Mary and I’s conversation. She set down our two drinks, and collected our meal orders before bustling off again. 

“You said you’ve been around a long time?” Mary asked me. I nodded, slowly. “You know Rowena MacLeod?” I asked Mary, and she inclined her head, confirming. “We’re from around the same time. Never knew each other back then, but we’re not unfamiliar with each other now.”

Mary tilted her head. “Who’s older?” I chuckled, and demurred, “Now, Ms. Winchester, don’t you know it’s rude to ask a lady her age?” Mary seemed, as ever, unimpressed. I sighed, and relented. I didn’t necessarily want to get shot in a restaurant. It seemed unfair to my clothes, and to Ms. Ida. She seemed like a sweet lady, and I figured she wouldn’t want to clean up blood in her section. “I’m about a century older than Rowena. By the time she was born I was somewhere far, far away from Scotland.”

“Why did you decide to help Jack?” She asked me. Internally, I was screaming. I hated repeating myself, but these Winchesters were determined to make me explain myself until I ran out of breath and then some. 

“My grandfather, God,-“ I started, but Mary cut me off, confusion laced in her voice. “God is your grandfather?”

“Yeah,” I said calmly, and laid it out for her. If I had a slight condescending tone, I would deny it, and couldn’t be blamed. “Jack and I’s grandfather is God. Both of our fathers are God’s sons, so… yeah. It makes family get togethers interesting. Or it would, if we ever had any.” I said with no small amount of sass in my voice. As I said this, I rolled my eyes, and I could have sworn that in the distance I heard a low rumble of thunder. ‘Baby,’ I thought with a teasing tone to it, directed at a God potentially wasn’t listening. 

“Anyway, when I was an emotional wreck of a baby Nephilim with a bunch of powers and scary big bads after me, God, or Chuck as he goes by now, decided I was a threat to his creation, but he didn’t necessarily want to, you know, kill me. So once my dad saddled up and finally admitted I was his, Chuck took us on a family trip to a ‘practice planet.’ Now, there aren’t that many things in all of God’s creation that are stronger than an archangel’s child. However, God is one of them. And with the so-called ‘training wheels’ Grand-dad put on me, so was Gabriel. I mainly learned how to regulate my power’s connection with my emotions, so I didn’t hulk out every time I got stressed or scared or happy or whatever. Once I learned how to do that, and Gabriel decided he was tired of saving my semi-constantly kidnapped ass, I got my training wheels taken off.” 

I took a moment to breathe, and allow Ida to set down our food. Mary and I murmured our thanks, and make appreciative noises about the food. Once she had disappeared in the back once more, I continued talking. 

“When Jack was made, everyone who was anyone felt the power of it. Heaven lost their shit. Hell lost their shit. I’m pretty damn sure that Purgatory lost their shit, although no one really keeps tabs on Purgatory. Everyone felt how powerful Jack would be, and automatically wanted him for their own. They still do. Everyone lost their shit when I was born, too, although I was warded fast enough that the heat was taken off of me relatively quickly. Back then, news didn’t travel fast so after a few key beings were killed, no one could ID me. But my point still stands. A Nephilim, Mary, is so powerful. A Nephilim, made from an archangel? Quadruple it. And then multiply that by a million.”

I paused to sip on my water, and composed myself. “It’s a struggle to come to terms with the powers, especially when everyone wants you for their own, and lies to you to get to it. I know that. My grandfather knows that too. He taught me how to handle it, and he told me that I had to teach Jack, help him manage it. I want to help Jack, because Chuck told me to, and because I can and should help a Nephilim like me.”

Mary nodded, chewing on a rather large bite of the burger she ordered. “I can understand that. My boys are… nervous. I’m a little nervous. You said that everyone wants him, and you have a nice story, but we can’t confirm with… Chuck, so it’s entirely possible you also want him for yourself.” She said seriously, after finishing the bite. 

“Mary, honestly? If I wanted to end the world, I wouldn’t need him. If I wanted to kill you right now, I wouldn’t even have to blink. I am incredibly in tune with my powers, and Jack is still fumbling around in the dark for a grasp at the true power he has. I couldn’t kill Jack unless I really, really, tried, same thing with Chuck and my dad and Jack’s dad and Amara. But the rest of you? I could wipe everything from here to the bunker with a flick of my grace.” Mary looked shocked, but remained silent. I could see the gears turning in her brain.

I set down the fry I had picked up, and made eye contact with the Winchester mother. “I didn’t hurt Cas when I first tried to reach out to Jack because I wanted to make a good impression. Those cuffs your boys put on me did hold me, but only for a little while. When the cuffs failed, I still didn’t want to hurt your boys, or Cas, or anyone else. I want Jack, and you guys, to trust me. I want your son to stop praying to me at night, sending me death threats. I want to help my cousin to get a handle on his powers because eventually his asshole dad is going to get back from that stupid alternate universe and come for him.”

I picked my fry back up, and broke eye contact with Mary. We ate silently for a moment while Mary visibly processed what I told her. She took a long sip of her water, and looked longingly at it as if she wanted whiskey to replace it. “So, um,” Mary said haltingly. “Have you met Lucifer?” 

I scoffed, and shook my head emphatically. “No, not in person, luckily. He’s been out and about, some, in the last decade or so, and when he’s been out he’s talked to me over angel radio some. He’s a dick. You know the whole ‘let’s try and remake earth in our own image’ thing he’s trying to pull with Jack?” I looked at her, and she nodded, frowning. 

“Yeah. He tried to pull it with me, too; although I suspect when he comes back, he’s gonna push harder with Jack, given the ‘father-son’ relationship he’s trying to start.” I told her, and popped another fry in my mouth. Mary looked concerned, and honestly I couldn’t blame her. 

“Should we be very concerned about that?” Mary asked. I scoffed. “Lucifer? Concerned about?” I huffed, incredulous, and Mary’s frown deepened. 

“I think Jack is going to be curious about his dad. It’s natural, and he’s only been hearing negative things about his dad. He’s going to want to see if the legend and the truth match up, and you shouldn’t try and prevent that. Monitor him, for sure. But honestly? I would be more concerned about the effect of Lucifer being out of the cage on Sam,” I said seriously. 

Mary’s hard look softened. “Yeah,” she sighed. “I am concerned about that. But shouldn’t we keep more of an eye on Jack? It is his dad, after all.” 

“Sam was tortured by Lucifer, Mary. Jack was made by Satan, but he hasn’t had much exposure from his father. Both your boys were messed up from Hell, Mary, and only one of their torturers is dead. Azazel was a dick, but he’s a dead dick. Lucifer is a dick, and just because he’s some other universe’s issue right now, doesn’t mean he’s stopped being a dick. Or that he’s stopped gunning for Jack. Or, gunning for Sam. Sam is still Lucifer’s true vessel, you know.” I said, with a pointed look to Mary.

“Lucifer will be back, I would bet on it, and Sam is definitely working through some stuff, as is Jack. Once Lucifer is back on our side, you’ll need to keep an eye on both of them, ok?” I explained to her. 

Mary nodded, and there was a quick lull in conversation when Ida swung by to check on us again. We smiled magnanimously as she cleared our places, and she slid the bill towards Mary. As Ida walked away, I snagged the bill and summoned a thick wad of 20 dollar bills. 

“I’m ready to go, are you?” I asked her, and the mother Winchester nodded succinctly. I placed the money on the table, on top of the bill, and Mary and I walked out of the diner together. Mary trailed behind me, and as we exited the diner, I heard a shout from Ida. 

“Miss! Miss!” She called after the two of us. She ran out of the diner, holding the majority of the 20’s above her head. “You left this!”

I smiled, and Mary’s eyes widened, looking at me expectantly. I walked off, with a “Keep the change, Ms. Ida!” thrown over my shoulder. 

Once I hit the tree line, I made myself vanish. Ida searched for me, and tried to press the money into Ms. Winchester’s hands. Mary adamantly shook her head, and ducked back into the small car she had borrowed from the bunker.   
I watched with a smile on my face as Ms. Ida stood in the center of the parking lot, smiling down in awe at the money in her hands. She slowly walked back into the diner as Mary drove off, and I flew away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'alll, sorry. Mental health stuff and school wait for no man.   
> Enjoy the chapter


End file.
